You Are Not Alone
by TMara
Summary: After leaving the Phantom with Raoul, Christine suddenly decides to rather stay with Mme. Giry than to follow Raoul to his home. Why? She is not so sure herself
1. Aftermath

Author's note: I still do not own anything or anybody, neither musical, movie, nor book(s). This story is mostly based on the movie, but I use elements from the other versions as well, for instance, there will be Nadir.

If you like the story, please review, if you don't like it, tell me why - I can read your comments in English, French, German, Italian or Swedish. And if you like it, also make sure to check out my other stories.

Oh yeah, and as always, the story is meant for friends of the E/C-pairing.

Chapter 1 - Aftermath

Christine looked back one last time to the Phantom's underground home, before the gondola, poled by her fiancé Raoul, made a turn that hid the underground lair from her view. She collapsed into the boat next to Raoul. She probably should feel relieved that the nightmare was over, that both, she and Raoul were free to go and more or less unharmed, but she could feel nothing. She was physically exhausted and emotionally drained after this evening's ordeal. Too much had happened way too fast for her to absorb it all and process it: the performance of "Don Juan", the Phantom on stage with her, her unmasking of him, their fall through the trapdoor, his madness, his forcing her to put on a wedding dress, Raoul's arrival, the Phantom's threat to kill Raoul unless she promised to stay with him and marry him, her decision to do just that, their kisses and finally his decision to let her and Raoul go and her last meeting with her former teacher when she returned the ring to him. Would she ever be able to look back on this emotional roller-coaster and analyze all the conflicting thoughts and emotions that had assaulted her tonight?

Christine shivered. Not only did she suffer from emotional overload, she felt miserable as well. After all, it was mid-February and the temperature in the underground caves was similar to that of the wintery Paris streets outside. She was only wearing a thin sleeveless wedding dress with a lot of cleavage, and to make things worse, the skirt of her dress was soaked from when she had walked up to the Phantom through the lake, promising herself to him. Raoul, of course, was every bit as drenched as she was and therefore unable to provide warmth. And she was so tired! All she longed for was a hot bath, a hot cup of tea and a warm bed to sleep in and forget everything that had happened tonight.

Or two strong arms to hold her. Christine startled. Where had this thought come from? For one fleeting moment an image had passed her mind, which had been oddly comforting. She had imagined herself encircled in the embrace of two strong arms and, though she barely dared admit it to herself, she had felt safe and protected. But those arms had not belonged to Raoul… She was obviously getting confused now, because she knew only too well whose arms had held her in her imagination. It was high-time she got some rest.

Christine slumped down once more next to Raoul in the shaky boat and was about to doze off when they reached the shore. She was only half conscious when Raoul led her up the stairs and to safety. She let him put her into a carriage and only when they were on the way, did she wake up enough to realize what was going on. "Where are we headed, Raoul?" He looked at her, surprised. "Where do you think we are going? Surely you know that the Opera Populaire is on fire and that you cannot go back to the dormitory. I am taking you to the Chagny-estate, where you will be safe."

Christine's strong, instinctive reaction surprised even herself. "No," she exclaimed wildly, as if in fear. Why had she said that? Why was she objecting to Raoul taking her home, his home, which would soon be their home? Why did she suddenly not want to be with her dear fiancé and childhood friend? Raoul was equally bewildered. "Christine, what do you mean, why would you not want to come with me, where you will be safe?" he inquired. Why indeed? She didn't have an answer. She only knew that it somehow didn't feel right to go with him. She was racking her brain to find something to say, to explain her reluctance to Raoul – and to herself. "It would not… be appropriate," she finally mumbled, thanking God for letting her think of this most obvious and irrefutable answer. "We are not married yet, I should not stay in the same place with you, especially considering my status as a performer… the girls from the theater don't have the best reputation. If I stayed at your place, my good name would be tarnished."

Raoul had to admit that Christine had a point. One of the reasons he had agreed to her wish to keep their engagement secret for the time being had been that he was not so sure about how his family and friends would react to the fact that he had chosen a ballet dancer and opera singer for his future wife. If he ever wanted Christine to be accepted in his social circles, her reputation would have to be irreproachable. This whole business with the Opera Ghost was already way more bad publicity for her than he would have ever wanted. As much as he disliked the idea of taking her elsewhere, it was probably the only way for her to get accepted into aristocracy, once they would be married in a few weeks.

"But where else can you go?" he asked nervously. "A hotel does not seem safe enough to me. And as I said, the dormitories are burning right now. Not that I would let you go back there, even if they were still intact," he added. Christine nodded. "No, I don't want a hotel. But what about Mme. Giry? I would have a chaperone that way, and Meg would be there as well."

"Mme. Giry?" Raoul asked hesitantly. "Doesn't she live at the Opera as well? She won't have a place to go to either." But Christine insisted. "No, no, I know it. Mme. Giry owns a little house with a garden at the outskirts of Paris that her late husband left to her. She rarely goes there, since she also has her room at the Opera, which is much more convenient for her daily work. But in summer, when the Opera is closed, she always spends a few weeks there. I am sure she will be going there tonight and she will not refuse me if I ask her to take me in. Please, let's find her!" Christine begged.

Raoul thought about it. There was no doubt that Mme. Giry was the Phantom's confidante, but she had also raised Christine like a second daughter and had been worried enough about her tonight to betray the Opera Ghost's trust and show him, Raoul, the way to his lair. He was reasonably certain that in this particular case her loyalties would lie with Christine and not with that monster.

Raoul called to the coachman and told him to return to the Opera. Chances were good that Mme. Giry would still be there, resolutely overseeing the evacuation of the burning building, or assisting the injured. Christine weakly squeezed his hand. "Thank you", she whispered, still uncertain why it was suddenly so important not to go with Raoul.

A few minutes later, the carriage stopped in front of a chaotic scene. The Opera Populaire was going down in flames, tinting the night sky a dark orange red. The fire brigade had arrived and tried their best to contain the fire, but their efforts were hindered by people still pouring out of the building and by injured victims sitting or lying in the way, waiting for one of the medical teams that had quickly been summoned from near-by hospitals to treat them. Relatives and friends of performers and audience members had also gathered near the Opera to look for their loved ones, once the news of the fire had spread through the city. And as always in such cases, there was also a large group of onlookers, anxious not to miss any detail of the disaster and being in the way of everything and everybody.

Raoul looked around. The whole scene was covered in smoke and soot and it was hard to make out any faces. But suddenly he spotted the familiar figure of the ballet mistress who was helping with some of the injured. He hesitated. Should he go and talk to her? He didn't want to leave Christine alone in the carriage, especially not that close to the Opera and that - thing. But if he called, it was doubtful Mme. Giry would hear him over the reigning chaos. He would have to take Christine with him so they could talk to her surrogate mother. "Come Christine," he said quietly. "I see Mme. Giry over there, let's go and see if she can take you in for a few nights – till we are married."

Christine silently allowed Raoul to help her out of the carriage and lead her to where he had seen Mme. Giry moments ago. The ballet mistress did not turn around when she heard the couple approaching, mistaking them for some more wounded looking for help. "Just a moment, I will be finished with this patient in a minute, then I will be able to assist you," she called over her shoulder, while deftly applying some ointment to the ugly red burn on a young lady's arm. It was a good thing that, when she had been offered the position as ballet mistress, she had insisted on getting training in first aid so that she would be able to treat small training-related injuries herself. This qualification proved invaluable now. She handed the young woman a small jar of the ointment and instructed her to apply some more of it to her wound in about an hour and to see a doctor the next morning. "Don't worry, this will heal, your arm will look as good as new in a few weeks," she comforted her charge.

"Mme. Giry!" That shy, weak voice made her forget her duty as a nurse at once. Mme. Giry turned around to see the pale, exhausted face of her surrogate daughter who was standing right behind her, at the side of the young Vicomte. "Christine! Thank God, you are safe!" Her relief was obvious. Christine and her fiancé not only had escaped the Phantom but the fire as well. But how had they gotten away from Erik? Did she dare ask? No, this was not the time. She noticed that Christine was shivering, that her dress was wet and that the poor girl looked like she had been through the wringer. Mme. Giry decided that under these circumstances all questions had to wait. She simply opened her arms and pulled Christine close to her, rocking her like a small baby. "Shh, my dear, don't worry. You are safe now. You will be fine, I am here with you." Christine sighed and melted into the older lady's arms.

Raoul coughed. "Umm, Mme. Giry," he interrupted the two women. "We had hoped, that is, considering that the dormitories are burning and it would not be appropriate… In short, would you mind taking Christine in for a few days? Not for long, I promise you, we will get married as quickly as possible, but until then? So that she is properly chaperoned as is befitting for my future wife?" Mme. Giry nodded. It was obvious from the way the girl was clinging to her that Christine needed a mother-figure right now. Once she had calmed down she would be in need of discussing whatever had happened in the cellars of the burning Opera house between her, Erik and Raoul – and Raoul was not the person to discuss this with, for two reasons: He was a man and would not understand a girl's feelings the way a woman would, and, though she herself was not exactly a neutral observer of the whole affair, Raoul's opinion on the recent events was certainly even more biased than hers.

"Of course, Christine, you may stay with me as long as you want. You know that you are like a second daughter to me, " Mme. Giry assured the trembling young woman in her arms, comfortingly patting her back. Then she looked around. "Lisette, can you take over for me here, please? I have to take care of Miss Daaé. And if anybody sees Meg, can you please tell her that I took Christine home?" Meg – she had not seen her in quite a while. Where was that girl? Had she entered the burning building again? She shook her head. At least Christine was safely here with her, in no immediate danger. But the young singer would catch a serious cold if she stayed out here much longer in that wet dress. Resolutely Mme. Giry turned to the Vicomte. "If you could kindly call me a carriage, I will see to it that Christine gets into dry clothes and into a bed as soon as possible. And if you don't mind, I would suggest you go home and do the same if you do not want to catch a cold."

Xxxx

Erik observed the chaotic scene in front of the burning building from the shadows of a nearby doorway. Over the years he had perfected the art of blending in with the surroundings so that he wouldn't be noticed. Tonight this was harder than usual, though. He desperately tried to avoid shivering – since any movement of his white shirt might be noticed. He realized too late that he had left his lair ill-prepared when the mob approached. After sending Christine away – towards the life of happiness she dreamed of and she so much deserved – he had been too heart-broken to think straight. He had known what the weather would be like outside. Why had he not taken his cloak, or at least a vest or a jacket? The white shirt was way too visible in the dark night, and even he, who was used to lower temperatures, was cold outside without a warm coat. His fingers closed tightly around the ring she had returned to him, it was all he had left of her. He sighed. Oh Christine – why had he let her go? He missed her already.

He was looking for Mme. Giry, hoping that she would be willing to help him hide. He would have to avoid his lair for a while, till things had quieted down a bit. Assuming the lair still was in habitable condition once the mob was finished with it. He sighed. What would it look like down there once he could return? Or, more to the point: would the cellars still be safe after the fire? Where would he go, if he could not return to his underground home? Erik shivered again. Did it matter if he could go back? What would it be like there – without Christine? Why was he running anyway? The mob would have killed him pretty quickly had he waited for them. Would that not have been merciful? Everything would be over by now, his pain, his loneliness, his heart-break, all his problems would be things of the past. He had been called a living corpse before, but right now he felt like one. Like his heart and soul had died and only his body was still walking around. How could he live without her, who was gone from his life forever?

His eyes suddenly widened. Christine! What was she doing here? The Vicomte was with her and they were talking to Antoinette Giry? Why were they not on their way to the boy's home? He saw that Antoinette took a visibly shaken Christine into her arms and tried to comfort her. He shuddered. Why was Christine so upset? Was it his fault? He had threatened her and the boy pretty cruelly, he had to admit it, but had it really been that bad? It was no wonder then that she had not wanted to stay with him. The pain of having lost her overwhelmed him again. Would he ever learn to put this dream of a life with her behind him and to find some joy in life again – without her?

So consumed was he with his own sorrow and broken heart that he almost missed how the Vicomte hailed a carriage for the two ladies and how Antoinette and Christine left together. A thousand thoughts crossed his mind at once: Relief that the boy and Christine would not spend the night together as he had feared, surprise, why this was happening, and the realization that he now could not count on Antoinette's help were the most prominent ones.

What was he to do now? He knew only one person other than Mme. Giry that might be able and willing to provide him with shelter for a few days or weeks, but as far as he knew, Nadir had left Paris a while ago to spend the winter in the sunny South, and would not be back until early April. His best hope for shelter had therefore lain with the good Antoinette, who had hid him once before, when he had escaped from the gypsies after killing his tormentor.

But with Christine there, Antoinette's home was off-limits for him now. Christine! The thought of her made his heart ache once more. Did it matter where he went? He would have to find an abandoned building somewhere, or a tool-shed, or something and make it his home for now. He would have to stay near-by and as soon as the Opera was not surrounded by fire brigade, police, military, disaster relief forces or whatever other authorities might keep an eye on the ruins for the next couple of days he would have to try to go back to his lair and see if he could salvage any warm clothes or one of his masks… and he would need to retrieve some money as well; if he wanted to survive in the streets till Nadir's return he would need some provisions.

Half an hour later Erik lay curled up on the hard stone floor of an empty tool-shed, freezing. He had not expected to sleep tonight, but like Christine he was so exhausted and emotionally drained that a dreamless sleep claimed him almost the moment he lay down. And once he slept, nothing mattered anymore, not the hard floor, not the cold and not his broken heart. For this night at least, all his problems were forgotten.


	2. Revelations

Author's note: just reminding you that I do not own anything or anybody, but I do like to read your reviews, don't be shy, I understand you, even if you write not in English, but in German, French, Italian or Swedish. And if you do like this story, check out my one-shots as well.

Oh, and please forgive me, Erik is not in this chapter personally, but it's still mostly about him, so it's not half-bad, right? He will be back in the next chapter. And be patient, the good stuff is coming!

Chapter 2 – Revelations

Christine was clinging to Mme. Giry, sobbing hysterically, all the way till they reached the Girys' little house in one of the suburbs. Strangely enough, she had been relatively strong while the ordeal lasted, and now that she was finally safe, she broke down completely. Mme. Giry held her comfortingly and talked to her softly, trying to calm her, though not with much success. Once they arrived, the ballet mistress immediately drew a hot bath for Christine, handed her one of Meg's nightgowns and prepared the larger guest-bedroom for her troubled protégé while Christine soaked in the bath tub.

When Christine finally emerged from the bathroom, she was at least not shivering anymore. Mme. Giry sighed in relief. Chances were high that after a good night's sleep the young woman would be physically recovered from whatever nightmare she had experienced over the past few hours, though Mme. Giry was not so sure about her emotional recovery. She showed Christine to her bedroom, where a nice fire was already burning, and offered her a huge mug of steaming herbal tea. "Drink this," she advised, "it will help you sleep and it will make sure you won't come done with a bad cold."

"Mme. Giry, if you knew everything…" Christine's voice faltered. "Shh, Christine. Not today. You need sleep more than anything right now. Tomorrow, in the light of the new day, things may look different already. If you want to, you may tell me everything tomorrow, but if you don't want to, I won't bother you ," she promised. "Now drink your tea and sleep." Christine obeyed. The tea smelled wonderful and she felt its soothing effect the moment she took the first sip. She suddenly realized how tired she was. Drowsily she lay down and closed her eyes. Only moments later she was fast asleep.

Mme. Giry watched the sleeping girl for a few minutes. The tea had had its effect and Christine looked peaceful and relaxed. Whatever she had endured and suffered this evening was forgotten for the moment. But what about tomorrow morning? Would she be able to deal with tonight's events or would she still be traumatized? Mme. Giry was wondering what exactly had happened between Christine and her two suitors. Her surrogate daughter and Raoul had been together, both soaking wet and shivering, and Mme. Giry had not missed the fact that Christine had worn a different outfit than when Erik had abducted her from the stage. The white dress looked like a wedding gown. Surely, Erik had not… forced her… to become his wife? Or had he? Who knew what was going on in this man's brain, now that jealousy and a broken heart were obviously threatening his sanity.

And Christine herself – what were her feelings towards both men? She must have escaped from Erik together with Raoul, but she had come to her instead of leaving with Raoul. Was this really exclusively for propriety's sake or was there some deeper reason to Christine's actions? She hoped she would get answers to these questions in the morning and that she would be able to help Christine deal with tonight's events.

The sound of the front door opening woke her from her thoughts. She left Christine's room to meet Meg downstairs. The first thing she noticed was the white mask Meg was carrying in her hands. She suddenly felt ill at ease. Did this mean that Erik was dead? Had the mob found him and hunted him down simply by following the Vicomte de Chagny? Had she inadvertently sent the mob to Erik's lair?

"God," she whispered. "Meg, how did you get that mask? Is he…?" Her voice broke, before she could finish the sentence. Meg shook her head. "Mother, why are you so concerned about the Phantom? No, he is not dead. We didn't find him. He was gone, when I arrived with the mob. The only thing proving to us that we were indeed in his lair was this," she pointed to the white mask in her hand. Her mother breathed a sigh of relief. Erik must have escaped somehow. His blood was not on her hands.

Meg looked at her, concern in her eyes. "Mother, you obviously know a lot more about the Phantom and the things that have been going on in the Opera over the past couple of months. You seem relieved that he is alive. Do you know him personally? Why don't you tell me all? Please! Or don't you trust me?"

Mme. Giry thought for a moment, then she nodded. "Sit down, Meg, I'll make us some tea and then I'll tell you everything. With Christine here, it can't hurt if you know the whole truth as well."

While Mme. Giry prepared tea, Meg quickly changed out of her wet pants and set down in the living room. Her mother joined her only moments later with a steaming teapot and two cups. Once both cups were filled, Mme. Giry began her story.

"It was before you and Christine were born, I was maybe a little bit younger than the two of you are right now, and, as you know, I lived at the Opera, in the dormitories, and I was training to become a ballerina, just like the two of you. One Sunday, we girls were allowed to visit the camp of a group of traveling gypsies that promised all sorts of attractions to the Parisians. Among those attractions was the so-called "Devil's Child", a boy who was caged like an animal and whose head was hidden by a burlap sack. He was malnourished and his bare back and shoulders were covered in scars, the result of regular beatings. You cannot imagine how sorry I felt for him, he was not more than ten years old and had already suffered so much!"

"That was him, the Phantom?" Meg asked softly. Her mother nodded. "That was him. The attraction he starred in was terrible. A big, burly gypsy forced him to remove the sack and reveal his face to the audience. The man beat him. Yes, the boy's face was grotesque to look at, the left side of it completely normal, even attractive, and the right side horribly disfigured, but it was much harder to watch the treatment this poor soul received from his tormentor than to look at his deformed face. I stayed behind after the show and watched the boy, feeling awfully sorry for him and thinking about how I could help him. The boy must have reached his breaking point, for when the cruel gypsy returned, the youngster suddenly attacked his master and killed him."

Mme. Giry paused to take a sip of her tea. "I probably should have been revolted seeing such a young boy kill a man like that, but all I could think of was that the poor abused creature had finally shaken his chains and was free." Meg laid her hand reassuringly on her mother's. "Nobody can blame him for defending himself – or you for not feeling sorry for the dead brute," she said.

Mme. Giry smiled at her daughter and continued her narration. "The dead master's key opened the boy's cage and he ran. I followed him, grabbed his hand and showed him the way to the Opera, to the cellars, where he could hide. They never found him."

"And he has lived there ever since?" Meg asked. "I am not sure," Mme. Giry replied. "At first I saw Erik quite often, brought him food and blankets and candles and whatever else he needed, till he had settled down."

Meg interrupted, "Erik? Is that his name?"

Mme. Giry nodded. "Yes, his name is Erik. As I said, at first I helped him a lot, but he proved to be very independent and had learned to fend for himself at a very young age, so after a while we didn't see each other that often anymore. Then I met your father and I had even less time for my protégé, but I have to say that he did seem to do pretty well on his own. I guess I was too young to realize that above all, he would have needed a family that accepted him. After all the violence and abuse he had experienced from his early childhood on, he would have needed love and affection for his emotional development. If only I had truly been a sister to him…"

Meg squeezed her mother's hand reassuringly. "I do think you are the closest thing to family he has. He does trust you, doesn't he? You always were in charge of delivering his messages. He wouldn't have asked you for your help if he didn't trust you."

"You are probably right," the elder Giry admitted. "But still, I pretty much abandoned Erik when your father and I started dating, and when we got married, and lived here in this house, I barely ever saw Erik anymore. Then you were born and I was unable to dance for a long while. I do think that Erik was gone from the Opera at that point as well. He must have traveled a bit, he mentioned having once been to Italy and the Orient, and I do not think that he meant during his time with the gypsies."

"Anyway, when your father died, I returned to the Opera, but since I was out of practice I could not perform anymore, so I applied for the then-vacant position of ballet mistress and was lucky enough to get the job. You and I moved back to the Opera and a few months later I met Erik there again. He had grown up in the meantime and developed into a very well-read, cultured man. He is talented in so many ways. He is an excellent musician, he has a fantastic singing voice, plays several instruments and composes, but he is also a very talented architect and an extraordinary magician, among other things. It really is a pity that he cannot be accepted in society because of his deformity. Without this birth defect he would be considered attractive, even with the mask he looks quite distinguished." Meg thought about the tall, elegant man that had performed the Don Juan-duet with Christine earlier that evening and she had to admit that her mother was right.

"When I met him again Erik was somewhat restless, his life lacked a purpose. Because of his face and the experiences he had made as a very young child he did not dare live a normal life. He continued to hide in the cellars of the Opera and to go out only at night, when nobody could see his face. And of course he always wears a mask to conceal his disfigurement. In order to make a living he became the Opera Ghost with a regular salary. It was not just extortion, his ideas and suggestions normally proved very successful and really improved many productions."

"Then Christine joined us." Meg looked up. She had been waiting for this part of the story, the connection between the Phantom – Erik – and Christine for quite a while. "You know how utterly devastated she was at first, how terribly she missed her father and how nothing and nobody could comfort her," Mme. Giry continued. "I feared the worst for her, she was giving in to depression more and more every day, she lost weight and she cried herself to sleep every night."

Meg nodded. She remembered those days very well. She had tried so hard to reach out to the other girl, after all, she had lost her own father not too long before Christine joined them and thought she understood her new friend's grief best. But nothing had gotten a reaction from Christine. Until, one day…

"The Angel of Music," she gasped. "Then Christine met her Angel of Music. It was Erik, right?"

"Yes," Mme. Giry confirmed. "Erik is her Angel of Music, except they did not exactly meet. He was passing by the Chapel through one of his hidden passageways when he heard her talk to her dead father and implore him to send her the Angel of Music, as he had promised. Something in that lonely girl's desperation struck a familiar chord with him. He knew loneliness only too well himself, and her interest in music also appealed to him. So he talked to her, introducing himself as the Angel of Music."

"Did you know right from the start that Erik was Christine's angel?" Meg asked. Her mother nodded. "Yes, it was so like him to talk to people through walls. It was just unusual that Christine was not frightened when he talked to her. He was intrigued by that, and as I said, they had a lot in common, they were both extremely lonely, neither of them having any family, and both are almost obsessed with music. They both profited immensely from their relationship. Christine finally got over her depression and Erik's life finally had a purpose when he started to teach her. I was happy they had found each other." Mme. Giry sighed. "Of course, I could not foresee that the moment the lanky teenager started to grow into a beautiful woman, Erik would begin to see her with a man's eyes, not a teacher's. He had always cared deeply for her, and I know she cherished her 'angel', so he began to hope that maybe Christine would be able to look past his face and love him for the person he is."

"And you, mother? How did you feel about Erik's sudden love for Christine? Were you hoping she would return his feelings? If she had, would you have approved? I mean, would you have allowed Christine to go live in the cellars with him?"

"I don't know. I guess I hoped Christine would feel the same about him. That she would somehow make it up to him for all the pain and hurt he has suffered all his life from people that are afraid of those that are different and treat them cruelly. That she would help him get out of the cellars and lead a normal life. The life that he deserves."

Mme. Giry refilled her tea cup and continued. "I know he finally told her the truth, that he was not an angel but a man and in love with her, after her debut in 'Hannibal'. I thought she had taken the revelation well, although the sudden appearance of her childhood friend certainly complicated things. The young Vicomte obviously was in love with Christine as well. At first she didn't seem to see him as anything but a friend, and I was not sure his intentions were too honorable. You know how those young aristocrats feel about ballet dancers and singers. Then "Il Muto" happened. Erik was furious that night, because Raoul was in his box, because Christine was not given the lead, and he overreacted with his stunt during the performance, when he made Carlotta croak. Christine was visibly shaken, when I helped her get into the Countess' costume, but she might have gotten over that."

Meg understood. "Buquet. Erik killed Buquet that night."

"Yes." Mme. Giry nervously stirred her tea, even though she had not added any cream or sugar. "I know that Buquet was practically asking for it. He constantly was trying to spy on Erik, he knew a lot and he talked a lot. Erik did feel threatened by the man. I was aware of it and I had warned Buquet repeatedly. There is also the fact that Buquet was quite lecherous, always trying to get glimpses of my ballet girls while dressing or undressing, which also annoyed Erik, considering that his beloved Christine was among those girls. I do not know what exactly happened that night, but I think Buquet and Erik must have somehow run into each other, it came to a confrontation between them and Erik won."

"And Christine did not trust Erik anymore, because she now saw him as a murderer," Meg continued. "I can understand her so well, I would be shocked as well if somebody I care for suddenly killed another person."

"Yes, and as a consequence Christine started dating Raoul. Erik must have noticed that and to be abandoned by the one person he loved most, must have broken his heart. He disappeared for months. Not even I heard from him. I thought he might have left to travel again. As it turns out he sought comfort in his music, composing "Don Juan Triumphant" during that time, but of course he had made things easier for Raoul. With no competition around, it did not take the Vicomte very long to make Christine his fiancée. Though don't ask me, why they kept the engagement secret. Did he want it that way for fear of what his family and friends might say or was it her decision because she was not over Erik yet, I have no idea. I do know, though that she was pretty reluctant to act as bait for Erik by performing in Don Juan, but considering their close relationship over so many years, that would be understandable, no matter what exactly her feelings for him were. Whether or not she ever loved the man, she had definitely cared deeply for the teacher at one point."

Meg shook her head in wonderment. "That is the most fantastic and touching story I have heard in a long time," she exclaimed. "And it's even true! You say that both, the Vicomte and Erik, do love Christine. But what about her? Who do you think she really loves?"

Mme. Giry sighed. "I wish I knew. I hope she knows. As I said, there was a time I hoped she would be able to free Erik from the cellars, but I also saw how shocked she was about Buquet's murder. I do not know if she could forgive that – and now Piangi and the fire as well. Though I do not think Erik was in his right mind tonight. I am not sure he can be held responsible for those actions. As to Raoul, she definitely cares for him as well. But unless she truly and deeply loves him, for himself, and not as the only alternative left to her because Erik disappointed her, I foresee problems for her in this relationship as well. She would have to give up performing for one thing. In either case, no matter who she ultimately chooses, she would have to be very, very sure that that's the one she loves and that their love will make it up to her for everything else. Whichever of the two she chooses, the relationship will be a challenging one and she will need all her love to make it work."

"Do you know what happened tonight after Erik abducted her from the stage?" Meg inquired. Her mother shook her head. "No, I didn't question Christine about tonight's events. If she wants to talk about it there will be time for that tomorrow, if not, I will respect her privacy, at least for the time being. I do think she should discuss tonight's events with somebody eventually, but this can wait till she is ready to do so."

"And Erik? Where do you think he went?" Mme. Giry sighed. She wished she had an answer to that question. "I was somewhat hoping he would show up here, though with Christine here it's probably for the best if he stays away. I do not know if he has a place to go. I just hope he is safe. I do feel responsible for him as well in a certain way."

Meg yawned. It was way past midnight. "We won't solve any of these problems tonight. Let's go to bed," her mother suggested. "It won't help Christine or either of her two suitors, if we collapse with exhaustion." Meg agreed and the two women retired to their bedrooms. Neither of them found much sleep that night, though, they were both thinking about Christine, the two men in her life and which of them she truly loved, the masked man's whereabouts and the future, which looked pretty bleak now that they had lost their jobs.


	3. Uncertainty

Again, I do not own anybody or anything. Thank you all for reading and reviewing, and keep those reviews coming! Also, please check out my other stories as well.

Erik is back in this chapter and we are starting to get close to the good stuff. I am off from work this week, so chances are good, you will get a few more updates soon! Now enjoy!

Chapter 3 – Uncertainty

When Erik woke the next morning, his whole body felt sore from sleeping on the hard, cold stone floor. He was also freezing. For a few moments he considered just staying there on the floor, motionless, and waiting for the cold to paralyze him, till death would finally come. His heart ached with longing for Christine, but he had promised to leave her alone, and he would keep that promise. If only it would not hurt so much to stay away from her!

Self-preservation and the will to live finally took over. He got to his feet and carefully peeked out the tiny window. The sky was overcast and heavy with huge, grey clouds, but it was by far too bright outside for him to leave his shelter. His face was only too recognizable and after last night's "chandelier-accident" he would be a hunted criminal. Fortunately it would get dark by late afternoon and then he could dare slip out and look for food and a more suitable hiding place, but he still had to stay put for several more hours.

Erik sneezed. Was he falling ill already? He definitely needed to get warm somehow. Should he dare pass the next night in a stable, sleep in the hey? Or would the risk of discovery be too great? He shook his arms and legs to keep blood circulation going and prevent hypothermia as best he could. He had several hours to think about what to do next. Assuming the image of a lovely face framed by exquisite dark brown curls would not keep invading his thoughts, bringing about painful memories. His hand went to Christine's ring, which he had tied around his neck with a piece of cord he had found in the tool-shed, so he could wear the ring right above his heart. Christine! He loved her so much. He would always love her, even though she had left him. Erik sneezed again, which, at least for the time being, made him concentrate on thoughts of survival again.

Xxx

Christine didn't wake up before mid-morning. She felt rested, but the horrors of the previous night still haunted her. In her mind terrible, frightening images – memories of her Angel, raving mad and demented as he had been, of Raoul with the noose around his neck, of the chaos in front of the burning Opera Populaire – dominated over more pleasant thoughts like the fact that she and Raoul had gotten away. She wished she could forget it all. She did not want to be reminded of those hours ever again. Christine closed her eyes and tried to go back to sleep and shut out those vivid memories.

"If you want to, you can stay in bed all day and rest," Mme. Giry's voice interrupted Christine's thoughts. Suddenly tears began to streak down Christine's cheeks and sobbing she extended her arms towards her foster mother. Mme. Giry reacted immediately, sitting down on the bed and hugging Christine tightly. "Shh, don't worry," she tried to calm the young woman. "I am here, you are safe, and everything else will sort itself out sooner or later."

Christine calmed down a little. Why was she so upset, anyway? As Mme. Giry had said, she was safe. So was Raoul. They would soon get married and everything would be fine.

Would it really? Suddenly the image of her Angel's face passed through her mind, the way he had looked the moment she had returned the ring to him. Heart-broken did not even begin to describe the expression at the bottom of his deep, soulful eyes – and the angry voices of the mob could be heard in the distance…

New tears welled up in Christine's eyes and she sobbed into Mme. Giry's blouse. "Mme. Giry, do you think you can find out," she began. "I mean, would we have heard anything about…" Her voice broke and she cried for a few minutes before she could continue. Mme. Giry did her best to comfort her, although she wondered what had upset the young woman again. "My Angel," Christine finally sobbed. "Is there a way we can find out … if the mob… if he has been harmed… if he is even still alive?"

"Erik should be safe," Mme. Giry tenderly pulled the sobbing girl closer to her. It had not escaped her that Christine had referred to Erik as her "Angel", not as "the Phantom". And Christine was obviously worried about him. Mme. Giry continued softly: "Meg went with the mob last night, because she was worried about you. She says that they did not find him. His lair was empty, he was gone, when they arrived. He got away in time. I do not know where he went, but you know how resourceful he is. I am sure he is fine."

A wave of relief washed through Christine and she smiled. Somehow she was not surprised that Mme Giry obviously knew her Angel, even knew his given name. It had taken her only a moment to realize who that "Erik" must be that Mme. Giry was talking about. "Erik?" she asked. Mme. Giry nodded. "I never knew this was my Angel's name," Christine confessed. "But it suits him." Then memories of the previous night overwhelmed her again.

"He is so good," she sobbed. "I hurt him so badly, and he let me go with Raoul, even though it broke his heart. He told me about his mother and his first mask and I just told him his soul is distorted. He gave me this beautiful dress and wanted me to stay with him, he loves me so much, and I treated him so poorly." Christine went on, incoherently remembering moments from the previous night. "He threatened Raoul, he was out of his mind with jealousy and Raoul was careless, and then Raoul had the lasso around his neck.. and the lake… we were all three standing in the lake, and then I kissed him.." Mme. Giry was not sure she understood what exactly had happened last night. Especially that last part seemed a mystery to her. Had Christine just said that she had kissed Erik? Or was she talking about the Vicomte?

"And then he let us go," Christine continued. "He knew that I wanted to go with Raoul, and so he let me, because what I want matters most to him. He loves me so much. It broke his heart to let me go, but he did it anyway. He didn't have to, I had just promised to stay with him, I was his rightful fiancée, but he still let me go." Mme. Giry was getting more confused by the minute. Christine had been willing to stay with Erik and he had let her go? Erik could have finally had her and he did not keep her? She realized that not just Christine's feelings for the two men in her life were more complex than she could even begin to imagine, but obviously so were Erik's. If he truly had found it in him to let Christine go with his rival, as Christine seemed to imply, if he let her go, because he thought that she wanted to go with Raoul, or that it would be better for her to go with Raoul, his love for Christine must be incredibly deep and strong. Christine certainly was impressed and touched by the depth of his feelings. If only…

A new thought struck Christine and interrupted Mme. Giry's musings. "But I was still engaged to Raoul as well, we never broke off that engagement! Is it possible to be engaged to two men at the same time? Or does it mean I was not engaged to either, because it was somewhat similar to bigamy?" Mme. Giry smiled. This gave her the opening she had been hoping for.

"I do not know if one engagement cancels out a previous one, or if an engagement made while another one is still in place would be valid," she said lightly. "I think the situation is complex and rather unusual. Since there is no known precedent, I would be inclined to say that it is up to interpretation: are both engagements valid, or just the first one or just the second one or neither? In my opinion, the important thing is: which one do you want to be valid? Which one of the two men do you really love? That is the only thing that matters. That you love the one you are going to marry and that he loves you in return." She let that last statement sink in. Christine definitely had feelings for Erik, but what was the nature of those feelings? Did she see him more as a friend and teacher, or did she love him as a man? If the latter, was she aware of her true feelings? It could not hurt to make her think.

"I seem to remember that the Vicomte mentioned the two of you getting married soon," Mme. Giry continued after a while. "So I take it this is your valid engagement, correct?"

Christine nodded. She was going to marry Raoul, he still wanted her, although she had promised to stay with her Ang… Erik and had kissed him. She reminded herself that her Angel's name was Erik. The man she had kissed – twice, and rather passionately – was called Erik. Raoul had been watching. Raoul, her fiancé, her childhood sweetheart. He had been watching and he still wanted her. He loved her very much and they would be happy together. Of course the engagement with Raoul was the one she considered valid. It was him she loved.

She would have stayed with Erik though, if he had not let her go. Of course, she had not promised to stay with him out of love but to save Raoul's life. But… the image of being safely held by her Angel's strong arms once again flittered through her mind and her lips burned at the memory of the kisses she had shared with him. Raoul's kisses never had made her feel that way…

Christine sighed. She suddenly realized that both men meant a lot to her and that both loved her. They were both jealous and each of them had tried to harm or threaten the rival. Both had suffered a lot, Raoul more in terms of physical pain and threats to his life, Erik more in terms of emotional pain and threats to his sanity. But there was no doubt that she was the one who had caused them both their pain. As they had caused hers. Raoul had made her act as bait to catch her Angel, and Erik had tried to force her into marriage by threatening Raoul. Each of them had fought to get rid of the rival so that, as the winner, he could have her to himself. Had either of them ever seen her as anything other than a prey to be won from the opponent, had either of them ever considered asking her, which of them she really wanted? If they had, what would have been her answer?

She had to admit that before the fatal opening night of "Il Muto" the person that had mattered most to her in her life had been her Angel – Erik. Of course his disfigured face had been a shock, but when she had realized how much he suffered under this burden, how low his self-esteem was as a consequence, how he saw himself as a loathsome gargoyle and repulsive carcass, her heart had gone out to him. His face was not the problem. His temper and his violence were. He had killed Buquet. He was a murderer, a threat. And last night – the burning Opera house, that was his doing, too. He was dangerous, it was not safe to be around him. And yet… he had let her go. He even had let Raoul go, too. Somehow, despite all the evidence to the contrary, deep in her heart she still knew that he was a decent person.

As to Raoul, they had shared a wonderful period of their childhood. With Raoul she could talk about her father, they had listened to him playing the violin together, they had listened to his stories, they had both the same golden memories of a few happy, carefree months. Raoul had also been there for her when she needed a shoulder to cry on after realizing that her Angel was a murderer. Raoul treated her like a lady and had asked for her hand in marriage despite the difference in their social status. Raoul was the one she could be with openly, go for a walk with in plain sunshine. Raoul did not have to hide from authorities. Being with Raoul was safe. Marrying Raoul was the right thing to do, or was it?

"Yes, Raoul and I are engaged to be married," she finally said. "We have known each other for so long" – Mme. Giry thought by herself that while it was true that Christine had known Raoul a long time ago, she had only met him again fairly recently, and she wondered how well Christine really knew the Vicomte – "and we were already childhood sweethearts. I guess we always knew we would marry one day," Christine continued. "He has always been my knight in shining armor. When we first met, he ran into the sea to fetch my scarf that the wind had blown away…" And last night he had barged in, running through the lake, not caring for a possible trap, to fetch her, whom the Phantom had taken away.

Mme. Giry squeezed Christine's hand. "That's so good to hear," she smiled brightly. "You and the Vicomte being so much in love, having known each other for so long, now finally about to be married." She was deliberately laying it on thick, making a big show of how happy she was for the young couple and how much she believed in Christine's love for her fiancé, a love, she herself was not so sure about anymore. Was there really a chance that Christine felt more for Erik than she was aware of or willing to admit to herself? Or was it just wishful thinking on her, Antoinette Giry's, part? For if Christine and Erik became a couple, if Erik finally found love and acceptance with Christine, Antoinette Giry would finally be rid of the feeling of guilt, of having somehow betrayed her protégé by not providing him with the loving warmth of a family atmosphere he would have needed. Of course, this would entirely depend on Christine. She would not influence her one way or the other. If Christine did not truly love Erik, she was better off marrying the Vicomte as planned. Everybody would be better off in that case if she married the Vicomte. But what, if deep down it was Erik she really loved?

Christine hugged her foster mother. "Yes, it is wonderful," she said shakily. Somehow Mme. Giry's enthusiasm did not make her feel too good about the planned marriage. In fact, it rather had the opposite effect. She remembered last night, how it suddenly had not felt right to go with Raoul. She was fairly certain that propriety had had very little to do with it, after all, she had not been concerned with propriety when her Angel had shown her to his lair after the performance of "Hannibal". No, propriety had never been too important to her, her reluctance to go with Raoul last night had been an instinctual reaction. But she did love him, did she not? She wanted to marry him and spend the rest of her life with him? Christine was not so sure anymore.

"I don't know," she finally said. "So much has happened those past few months. Everything has happened so fast. I think I need some time to think about it all and to rest. I became an opera diva almost overnight, I learned that my Angel was just a man, and a killer at that, I met my childhood sweetheart again and got engaged to him, I was an accomplice in trying to get my Angel caught, and now the Opera house has burnt down and I am out of a job. Somehow I have the feeling that I have had enough excitement for a while. All I really want to do now is to rest and to not think about anything anytime soon. Getting married within a few weeks just seems too much. That is not to say I do not want to marry Raoul," she added quickly. "Just, I think I would enjoy it more if it were not so rushed. If we could plan it carefully and if we had some time to ourselves before we get married and I have to take over the social duties of a Vicomtesse." Whatever those might be. Christine admitted to herself that she had no clue what would be expected of her once she was Raoul's wife.

Mme. Giry nodded. "Of course, my dear. If you want some time to yourself after all you have been through, that's fine with me. I am sure the Vicomte will understand if you tell him that you want to wait with the wedding. Once you are his wife you will have to represent for him and this will take a lot of your time. Now, you are an unemployed singer – for we are all unemployed at the moment – with lots of time on your hands, and he can see you whenever he wants. Of course, he loves you and may be impatient to finally make you his wife, but since he loves you, he will accept your reasons and will give you the time you need."

"Are you sure?" Christine asked full of hope. Waiting a bit with the marriage definitely was a good idea. She probably just needed some time to relax and calm down after last night, then it would feel right again to follow Raoul everywhere he went. She only hoped, by asking him to wait a bit longer, she would not hurt Raoul's feelings. After all, she had caused him enough pain already. But if he truly loved her, surely he would wait till she was ready?

"Yes, I am sure," Mme. Giry's voice held all the confidence in the world. "Since he truly loves you, he will give you the time you need. He will know that nothing and nobody will get between you, because love will find its way, no matter what." Both women smiled. That idea, that love would ultimately find its way and all would end well, was a comforting one. And not with one thought did Christine suspect that Mme. Giry had been thinking of something other than her and Raoul's love when she had spoken those words.


	4. Anger

Again, I do not own anything or anybody, you know that by now, I hope.

Raoul is back in this chapter - and I warn you all, don't kill me! I have a reason for why I think Raoul would do what he does in this chapter, and it will be explained in one of the upcoming chapters. Oh, ah... and about Erik... you will have to wait for the next chapter to see what happens.

Thank you to my loyal readers and to my reviewers! Your support means a lot to me!

Chapter 4 – Anger

In the afternoon, a carriage displaying the de Chagny crest stopped in front of the Girys' house. The young Vicomte exited, dressed to the nines and carrying a huge bouquet of flowers. Mme. Giry answered the door, welcomed the visitor and lead him into the parlor.

"I know you are here to see your fiancée. Christine and Meg will join us in a minute, Vicomte," she announced, offering him a chair and taking a seat herself. Raoul sat down, smiling uneasily. "I hope Christine is not suffering any after-effects from yesterday's ordeal?" he asked. His voice sounded a bit rheumy, the unexpected bath in the cold underground lake had obviously caused him a slight cold.

"Physically, Christine has recovered," Mme. Giry explained. "Last night I feared she might catch a cold, but fortunately that has not happened. Emotionally, though,…" she shook her head. "Vicomte, please forgive my boldness, this certainly is a sensitive topic. You may think that this is none of my business, but Christine is like a second daughter to me. I do feel responsible for her. As a result of her recent experiences, she is very shaken and has lost her emotional equilibrium in a way."

Raoul looked up. "What are you trying to tell me?" he asked sharply. "That this monster has traumatized her, harmed her emotionally? I will just have to speed up the formalities and marry her as soon as possible, so that she can finally be free of him and safe from him!" Mme. Giry looked him directly in the eyes. This was going to be more difficult than she had expected. "No, Vicomte. I am saying that two men, who were competing for Christine's affections, have both put her under a lot of stress. No, don't deny it, Monsieur, you are just as guilty as… the Phantom." Mme. Giry remembered just in time, that she and her two girls had agreed not to mention the masked man's given name in the Vicomte's presence. "After all, it was not him that persuaded Christine to perform in the Phantom's opera, it was not him that decided to use her as a bait."

The young man suddenly seemed to find the points of his well-polished shoes to be the most fascinating objects in the room to fix his eyes upon. "I know I was asking a lot of her," he admitted, ashamed of his involvement in the previous night's disastrous events. "But I thought it was for her own good. I wanted to free her of this murderer's influence once and for all." Mme. Giry was not so sure his main motive had not been to get rid of his rival, but she pretended to believe him. "Your intentions certainly were good," she flattered him. "Unfortunately, the result was not as planned and Christine ended up finding herself in a situation that may have exceeded her worst nightmares."

Raoul seethed with ill-contained rage. "Who could have expected that this criminal would abduct her from the stage, right before the eyes of the audience and all those gendarmes?" Mme. Giry could not help thinking that one might have expected Erik to have an ace up his sleeve and not to let himself get caught that easily, even though she had to admit that she had not foreseen that particular turn of events. "Be that as it may, fact is that these things did happen and as a result, Christine is in a precarious emotional condition," she continued. "She will eventually get over these traumatic experiences and heal, but it will take time. Right now, she needs comfort and understanding, time to herself, to rest and recover from her ordeal. She needs peace and quiet, not stress or pressure."

"Are you warning me not to put her under any additional pressure? All I want is to get her as far away as possible from this madman," Raoul exclaimed. Mme. Giry sighed. The number of denigrating denominations this young man had for Erik! "Yes and no," she replied calmly. "No, I am not warning you, I am _asking_ you not to put her under additional pressure. But yes, that's exactly what I wanted to tell you. Her emotions are in a turmoil after what she has been through. Christine needs rest. Do not push her. Give her the time she needs. Wait till she is ready." She relaxed. There, she had said it. How would the proud young aristocrat react?

"Wait with what?" Raoul tried to get more clarification. "The marriage, of course." Mme. Giry wondered, did he pretend not to understand or was he really that slow? "Right now she is not ready for such an important step. She needs to heal first. Since you love her, you will surely give her that time." Mme. Giry knew she was manipulating him, appealing to his love for Christine, but Christine's future was at stake. She would not allow the girl to be rushed into a marriage she was not a hundred percent sure Christine wanted. If after a period of relaxation and recovery Christine still wanted the Vicomte he would still be there, but if she found out that her heart belonged to Erik after all, a premature marriage to the Vicomte would probably make all three of them unhappy.

Raoul snarled. "That beast," he exploded. "He still has her under his spell somehow so that she is uncertain about marrying me! Why can't he leave her alone?"

"Pardon me, Monsieur," Mme. Giry interrupted. "But I think you are overreacting. What I said is that right now Christine is not in the right frame of mind to get married. To anybody. This has nothing to do with you. Or him. I am sure she still wants to marry you." She winced inwardly. Was she really sure? "Also, correct me, if I am wrong. But from what Christine has told me about last night's events, there was a point when the Phantom asked her to stay with him. If that were what she wanted, surely she would have stayed? She had that option, but obviously chose to go with you. I also learned from Christine that she had promised to stay with the Phantom, but that he himself let her go. If he wanted to keep her, why would he have sent her away only to influence her from afar, as you just suggested?"

Raoul had to admit that Mme. Giry's logic was inescapable. If that _thing_ and Christine had wanted to be together they could have had that last night. But there was this nagging suspicion… Mme. Giry was friends with the monster, what if she was trying to get him and Christine together? "They have seen each other again after I left her with you," he said accusingly. "He has made her change her mind." Mme. Giry shook her head. "No, Monsieur. You are mistaken. Christine has not seen him again, nor have I. I do not even know his current whereabouts."

"Swear to me," Raoul demanded. "Swear to me that you do not know where this monster is hiding, that he has not approached you and asked you to help him win her back." Mme. Giry smiled. Right now she was glad that Erik had not asked her for help this time. She could do as the Vicomte asked. "I swear to you, on my daughter's life," she said. "I have no idea where the Phantom is hiding at the moment, he has not contacted me and neither Christine nor I have seen him since last night's events."

The Vicomte nodded. "I believe you. I do love Christine and want what's best for her. I am still convinced an immediate wedding would be the best way to protect her, but if you think she needs a short period of recovery before she can fully commit to me, I will give her that. Though I must ask your permission to see her regularly. That is my condition for delaying the wedding for a few weeks."

Mme. Giry had no objections to that request. In fact, one of the reasons she was so unsure about Christine marrying the Vicomte had been that the two had not seen each other for so many years and had rekindled their relationship only a few months ago. Did they really know each other well enough to get married?

"Thank you for your understanding, Vicomte," she finally said. "I will go and find Christine for you. I hope you will take the tea with us?" At the Vicomte's short nod, she left for the kitchen, where Meg and Christine had been preparing for tea time. "Go to your fiancé, Christine," she smiled at the young woman. "I talked to him and he has agreed to wait with the wedding till you are ready. Of course he is anxious to talk to you and to see with his own eyes that you are not suffering any ill effects from yesterday's adventures." Christine beamed at her. "Thank you for doing this for me, I was so afraid of hurting Raoul's feelings!" She hugged her foster mother and ran to the parlor to greet her dear, sweet Raoul.

Meg wanted to follow her, but Mme. Giry caught her skirt in time. "Give them a few minutes alone," she said. "Help me arrange the teacups and the cookies on the tray, then we will follow her shortly."

Xxxx

"Raoul," Christine smiled at her fiancé. The young man stood and offered her the beautiful flowers he had brought with him. "Christine! You look fabulous today!" Christine felt flattered. She was well aware that the dress she had borrowed from Meg was a poor fit, and the pale pink which looked great with Meg's blond hair and rosy complexion was not exactly her color either. "Thank you, Raoul. Those flowers are gorgeous," she buried her face in the bouquet. "How attentive of you!" She almost felt bad for having asked him to postpone the wedding. Raoul put his arm around her waist and pulled her close, trying to kiss her. Christine almost panicked. There it was again, that instinct to pull away, the feeling that this somehow was not right. She managed to slightly turn her head, so that instead of on her lips Raoul's kiss landed on her cheek. An awkward silence hang between them for a few moments.

"Please, Raoul, you must be patient with me," Christine finally stammered. "Mme. Giry just told me that you agreed to postpone our wedding, and I cannot tell you how grateful I am to you for your understanding. You treat me so well, with so much respect. I do not deserve you. This has all been too much for me, I need to relax and to put last night's events completely behind me, before I can truly be yours. I want to take that step because I am ready for it and not because I am running away from something else," she tried to explain.

Her trust flattered him. He would have promised her anything if she looked at him that way, with those gorgeous brown eyes of hers. "But I have told Mme. Giry that I will come to see you daily, maybe take you to dinner or for a walk. If you prefer, we can take Mme. Giry or Meg or both with us, so that you are properly chaperoned and not compromised," he promised. Christine smiled. She did want to spend time with Raoul, but the thought that she would not have to be alone with him somehow comforted her.

When Mme. Giry entered with Meg, she noticed that the young couple was not standing too close together. Christine went for a vase for her flowers while Mme. Giry poured the tea. The conversation over tea was friendly, if a bit stiff, and while Christine smiled at Raoul a lot, she tried to avoid his touch. She is traumatized, Raoul thought. That beast has been dragging her and throwing her around last night. She now seems to think that all men are violent brutes and is afraid of a man's touch. She does not seem to know the difference between a monster like him and a cultivated man like me anymore. That really will take time…

xxxx

Erik shivered. He knew he was running a fever. Despite all efforts over the past few days he had not been able to find a better shelter. His nightly excursions had not been too successful either. He had barely managed to steal a piece of bread every now and then, but he had not been able to get back to his lair and look for warmer clothes or a mask. The police had been guarding the Opera for a few days, to make sure the fire was really extinguished and would not start again with a bit of wind to rekindle the flames. Several experts from a building enterprise had also been milling around to assess the damage on behalf of the insurance company and to decide whether or not it would be possible to repair the building.

A violent cough shook Erik's body. His chest hurt. He knew that the days and nights in the abandoned tool-shed, the constant exposure to the cold weather were starting to take their toll on him. His cold was getting worse every day. At first he had only been sneezing, now his head felt heavy all the time, his throat was sore, he felt feverish most of the time, and to make things worse, he had developed a bad cough and his chest hurt – not just from his broken heart, but also from physical pain. He knew the symptoms quite well. He was developing a severe case of pneumonia. His situation was desperate. He needed to get to a warmer place, he needed food, and medication. He needed the resources of his lair. He definitely could not wait any longer. Tonight he would have to try and sneak back into the Opera. Tomorrow he might already be too weak to do so…

xxxx

At the Girys' home things had returned to a normal daily routine. Two days after the fire Mme. Giry had received a letter from Messieurs Firmin and André, informing her that the insurance company was willing to reimburse all employees of the Opera Populaire for the loss of their property caused by the fire in the dormitories, so the three ladies would not have to touch their savings in order to replace and complete their lost wardrobe. This was especially important for Christine, who had lost all her clothes in the fire, except for the underwear she had been wearing that day – and Erik's wedding dress.

The three ladies had therefore embarked on a shopping tour and soon Christine was in possession of a few lovely warm dresses again. Meg and her mother had been a bit better off, but they, too, kept mostly a few summer dresses at their house and had gotten themselves several lovely new outfits as well from the insurance money received.

The excitement of shopping had been good for Christine, it had kept her mind off her recent experiences, it had been fun to try on clothes and choose which ones to buy. She and Meg had giggled a lot and consulted each other on the suitability of a certain color or cut. In the afternoons, the Vicomte usually called to take the tea with them and the young ladies took great pleasure in parading their new dresses in front of him.

The situation between Christine and Raoul had not changed. She was happy to see him, she smiled at him, talked with him, wore her beautiful new dresses for him, but she shied away from his touch and avoided being alone with him. Raoul was beginning to grow impatient with this attitude of hers.

Slightly over a week had passed since the fateful night of the fire at the Opera. When the Vicomte arrived at his usual hour to take the tea with the three ladies, he was particularly chipper, as if he were immensely pleased with himself. Mme. Giry felt a certain unease, when she noticed the jovial expression on his face. What had suddenly cheered him up so much? Only yesterday he had seemed annoyed at Christine's "prudish reticence" as he had called it. She would not have to wait long to find out the reason for his good mood.

As soon as the three ladies and the Vicomte had assembled around the tea table and Mme. Giry had poured tea for them all, the young man dropped his news. "Christine, we can get married now. There is no need to delay our wedding any longer. You are free of the monster. He will not haunt you anymore," he said smiling.

Christine looked at him, puzzled. "What do you mean, he will not haunt me anymore? Of course he will not. He let us go, remember? I know he will keep his promise." Her voice was a bit unsure. Where did this sense of foreboding suddenly come from? Did she somehow anticipate the devastating words the Vicomte would utter next?

"He is dead," Raoul continued, still smiling. "I knew he would try to return to the Opera sooner or later, so I made sure some of my most trustworthy men were posted around it. Of course in disguise. I would not want them to run around wearing my livery, would I?" His smug grin suddenly looked wolfish. "He came last night. They surrounded him and shot him."

"No!" Christine's desperate scream echoed through the room. "You can't have done that to him! He let us go and you sent killers after him? How could you?" She had turned a deathly pale and was on the verge of fainting.

"May I see him?" she finally asked softly. Raoul shook his head. He had expected a different reaction from her. "They have not found his body yet, but they definitely hit him, there was blood on the spot they encountered him. He cannot go to a doctor and without medical help he is as good as dead. He will either bleed to death or his wound will get infected and kill him. You are finally free, my dear. Now we can get married!"

"Never." Christine's voice was as cold as ice and her eyes looked through the Vicomte, for overwhelmed by images of her Angel – Erik – dead or dying, bleeding, in pain, helpless, realization had finally hit her, and she now understood what so far she had not dared admit even to herself: that it was him she loved. And now she was confronted with the very real possibility that realization had come too late, that she might never be able to tell him how much she loved him and that she wanted to stay with him for the rest of her life – out of her own free will, as he had always wanted her to.


	5. Pain

Since I am not working this week, there is yet another chapter. Just so you know, I still don't own anything or anybody, neither POTO-related, nor that line from "Les Misérables" that has somehow found its way into this chapter.

Many thanks to all my loyal readers and reviewers, your praise makes me so proud! I am surprised none of you believed Erik to be truly dead. (just kidding, we know he can't die when he is supposed to get the girl in the end!). Well, you were right, he is not dead. Quite. But he is in pretty bad shape...

Chapter 5 – Pain

Erik knew he was dying. He must have been very ill already, when he had tried to return to his lair the previous night. He remembered vaguely that his head had hurt – his brain had felt so numb, it probably had been the fever. Nevertheless he had left his shelter and approached the ruins of the Opera Populaire. It had been an act of desperation, in his condition he could not go on any longer without some of the supplies stored in his old home. He knew it was risky, that the place would probably still be guarded, but his options were either to die of his pneumonia or to risk getting killed while attempting to reach his lair. He had chosen the latter.

If he had not been ill, he probably would have noticed those peculiar men, dressed in tatters like homeless beggars, loitering in the vicinity of the Opera, pretending that they were there to look for salvageable goods, and trying hard not to be conspicuous about the fact that they were somehow working together. But under the influence of the fever he had not paid too much attention to them. Trying to blend in with them and to look like yet another scavenger he had slowly approached one of the Opera's side entrances. Almost at the last minute he had realized that they were converging on him. He had made a sprint for the entrance, trying to outrun them, but one of them had been too close and had grabbed him. He had struggled with his attacker, and had finally broken away from him. Erik was not sure how he had managed to do that, considering his poor health. His survival instinct must have kicked in somehow and saved him. He vaguely remembered having heard a peculiar muffled sound during his brief struggle, but he had not realized at that moment that the hit to his right shoulder which he felt pretty much at the same time was connected to that sound rather than to the fight with his attacker, that he had been shot in the shoulder by one of the other "scavengers".

He had finally broken away and made it into the Opera. Here he had the advantage, he knew the terrain. He had been able to shake off his foes quickly and had been lucky enough to find one of his secret passageways undamaged. He had hidden there and sealed off the entrance. Only then had he realized what the searing pain in his right shoulder and the red blood-stain on his shirt meant. He had taken off his shirt and tried to wrap it around his injured shoulder as a makeshift bandage, to stop the bleeding. Then he had passed out.

He had regained consciousness only moments ago. He was disoriented and had no idea how long he had been unconscious. He had not felt that weak in a very long time. He must have lost a lot of blood, his shirt had turned a dark red and the throbbing pain in his shoulder was probably an indication of the onset of infection.

He knew this was the end. The pneumonia he might have been able to fight on his own, had he been able to reach his lair where he kept antibiotics and where he would be warm. But this injury… He knew that the bullet was still stuck in his shoulder – God only knew for how long it had been there already, he had lost track of time during his period of unconsciousness. It would have to be removed, the wound needed to be cleaned and stitched and he could not perform this operation on himself with only one good hand. Of course he could not go to a doctor for help either. To make things worse, his shirt had not been the cleanest anymore after all those days of living in the streets. Using it as a bandage probably had infected his wound just as much as the bullet, which should have been removed a long time ago.

There was not much left he could do. Death was inevitable now. Erik laid down, to get as comfortable as possible in his final hours, when something caught his eye. Something glittering, dangling from a piece of cord around his neck. Christine's ring. Oh Christine! He had loved her so much. Now she would soon be free of him, he would not threaten her happiness anymore. His left hand closed around the ring, as if that way he could somehow be closer to his lost love. If only he could see her one more time before dying, if only he could tell her he was sorry for all the pain he had caused her…

A decision slowly formed in his head. He would go out and if it was still day he would wait for the darkness of the night to set in. Then he would try to reach Mme. Giry's house. Maybe he would still have enough strength left to go there, so that he could see Christine one last time. If she was merciful and forgiving, she might even allow him to die in her arms. He fought down a wave of nausea and ignored the pain in his shoulder and in his chest and slowly got to his feet. He had one last goal in his life… the image of Christine in his mind, he left his hiding place.

xxxx

"Never!" Christine's voice cut through the room like steel. "How dare you think I would marry a murderer?" Raoul was confused. Had she lost her mind? Who expected her to marry a murderer? Was she mistaking him for that beast now? For the only murderer that had ever shown any interest in her was dead, or at least as good as dead.

"Christine, calm down, relax," he cooed. "Everything is fine now. The murderer is gone from your life, you are free now!" Christine's eyes threw daggers at him. "Yes, I know, he was a murderer, he did kill Buquet. But he also was my Angel, and he had a kind heart," her voice was steady and calm. "He did threaten your life out of jealousy, but he found it in him to do what was best for me. He let me go with you, because he cared for me and wanted me to be happy. He spared your life – and you go and hire his killers. How could you do that? How could you repay him like that?"

Raoul wavered. He was not about to get any support in this room. The pale faces of Mme. Giry and her daughter mirrored Christine's. All three women looked at him as if he had brutally killed their favorite lap dog in front of their eyes. Perhaps he had. "I wanted to free you from his influence," he finally managed to mumble. "I wanted you able to put things behind you, I wanted to give you closure."

Mme. Giry gently touched his arm. "Vicomte, we are all four agitated. The news have been a shock to me as well. Maybe it would be better if you left now, before you, or me, or Christine, or all of us say something that can never be forgiven and that we will later regret?" He looked at her and nodded. It was obvious that he had outstayed his welcome today. "I shall retire now. I apologize for the inconvenience I have caused you ladies over tea. I will wait a few days before I will call again to inquire about the ladies' well-being." With that he took his hat, turned on his heels and left the room. The moment the door closed behind him, Christine collapsed into Mme. Giry's arms.

Mme. Giry herself was very shaken, she could not begin to imagine what Christine was going through, after all, it had been her fiancé ordering to kill her – Angel, teacher, love, whatever Erik meant to Christine. Erik shot by the Vicomte's people? How had that happened? Had the Phantom been careless, maybe deliberately looking for death? Considering the depth of his love for Christine and the fact that he thought her lost to him, this was a distinct possibility. Or had the Vicomte lied to them, or was he mistaken? Had Erik faked his death somehow? If so, why? To shake authorities off his track might be one possible explanation, to completely free Christine another. Since the Vicomte's people had not found a body yet, there was a slim chance that Erik was still alive, though she had to consider the possibility that he would die anyway without medical attention.

But as concerned as she was about her male protégé, the sobbing girl in her arms had to be her first priority. She lead Christine to the sofa and gently sat her down, her arms still comfortingly wrapped around the younger woman's body. Meg silently collected the tea cups and took them to the kitchen, leaving her mother alone with Christine.

"How could he!" Christine continued to exclaim. "How could he have my Angel ambushed to kill him! He let us go, he did not harm him, and Raoul sets out to have him killed?" Mme. Giry was not too sure about the Vicomte's motives either. Had he truly thought it would give Christine peace to know her former teacher dead? Or had he just wanted to get rid of a rival – a rival he still feared? She once again wondered if Raoul knew more than he let on, if he had maybe good reason to fear this particular rival. Was she not the only one to suspect that Christine's obviously strong feelings for Erik were not those of a student for her teacher? Christine's next words finally confirmed this suspicion.

"My poor Angel," she sobbed. "I finally understand how much I love him and now he is gone. It is too late for me to tell him, to heal his broken heart and lead him from his solitude." Mme. Giry pulled Christine closer. What should she tell her that could comfort the young woman under those circumstances? Had fate really been so cruel to make her realize her true feelings only the moment the man she loved had died or was about to die? She wondered if she should tell Christine that as long as nobody had seen the body there was still hope? That maybe Erik had faked his death? Should she awake hope in the girl that might turn out to be false?

"Life and death – it's all in God's hand," she finally said. "I am sorry that you only now realize what he was to you, now that it is probably too late. But," she continued, "you have your memories of him. Nobody can take that away from you. All those years that the two of you sang together and he helped you train your voice. And you have his mask – the one that Meg brought from his lair the night of the fire. And if you want to, I will tell you tomorrow, when you have calmed down, how I met him when he was only a little boy and everything else I know about him. And you know that he loves you as much as you love him, and that his love will always be with you."

Christine and Mme. Giry sat there for a long time, holding each other, sobbing together, comforting each other. They did not realize how it got dark outside. Their grief did not need light. Christine finally composed herself. Her head felt numb from all the crying, her eyes were swollen from all those tears. "I need to be alone for a while," she said. "Could I go out in the garden for a few minutes, I think the cold night air might do me some good." Mme. Giry hesitated. "Are you sure you want to go alone? What if you faint again?"

Christine smiled a heart-breaking, sad little smile. "If I am not back in half an hour you can come look for me. But I intend to be back sooner than that." She wanted to go out. Surrounded by the night she always felt closer to her dead loved ones. That's why she often went to her father's grave at night. She needed to feel close to her Angel tonight. Her heart full of love needed to tell him that it belonged to him and him alone and would be his for all eternity.

Christine grabbed her new warm coat and opened the French window that lead into the garden. It was cold outside, February was nearing its end and spring was yet a long way to come. The fresh air soothed her, though, and the night with its wonders, the blinking stars… it was his world. Her Angel's, Erik's. What had he told her that night when he had first revealed himself to her?

Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation,  
>Darkness stirs and wakes imagination…<p>

She felt so close to him, darkness really woke her imagination, she even imagined hearing his voice, calling out to her. "Christine!" She closed her eyes, imagining his arms around her – his lips on hers as they had been that last night.

The sound of somebody coughing violently woke her from her reverie. "Is there anybody?" she asked timidly. A well-known voice answered her. "Christine!" He had barely called her name when another coughing fit assaulted him. "Angel!" Christine was ecstatic. He was alive and he was somewhere near. Ill he might be, but he still lived. "Angel, where are you?" She looked around. There he was. She gasped in shock when she realized the condition he was in.

Erik was leaning against the trunk of Mme. Giry's beloved apple tree, and it was obvious that without that support he would collapse. He had apparently been in the same clothes since she had last seen him, at least she recognized the trousers he had worn on stage when playing the role of Don Juan. But he was shirtless – out in the cold night without a shirt! The mere thought made Christine shiver. She realized that the improvised bandage over his right shoulder was probably what was left of his shirt. It could not have done much to stop the bleeding, for it was soaked and red. Her poor Angel had obviously lost a lot of blood from the bullet wound. She also thought he might have lost weight, he looked so frail and thin to her. He was filthy and had apparently not shaved in days, the undamaged part of his face showing stubbles. He was not wearing a mask, she could clearly see the disfigured right side of his face. And he was obviously in pain. He coughed again.

"Oh my God, Angel, come into the house, you need to get warm," Christine pleaded with him. He smiled at her. "Christine, I have seen you again. Now I can die in peace." Christine got furious for the second time in one day – and at the second man in one day. "Don't even think about dying," she hissed at him. "I won't let you die. Come in with me, and Mme. Giry and I will nurse you back to health." She resolutely approached him and grasped his uninjured left arm to put it around her shoulder, so that she could support him. She almost jerked back again, for his skin was burning hot, although he was shivering. She realized that he was running a fever on top of everything else. She had to get him inside as quickly as possible. She wrapped her right arm tightly around his waist and started dragging him towards the house.

Erik felt in heaven. His Christine was here with him, she was not afraid, she was worried about him and she was helping him inside the house so that she could care for him and nurse him! He mobilized his last bit of strength to stumble towards the house, leaning heavily on her for support.

xxxx

Mme. Giry had been cleaning up in the kitchen, when she thought she heard the French window in the living room open again. "Christine, is that you?" she called. When nobody answered she went to see for herself. "Oh my God!" the sight of Erik, only semi-conscious, shirtless, filthy and with a blood-stained improvised bandage on his right shoulder, heavily supported by Christine, who was panting under the burden of his weight, made her gasp. She realized at once that Erik's condition was very serious, probably even critical, and that he needed immediate attention. Once again she thanked God for her first-aid training.

"Erik, hang in there, can you make it up the stairs with Christine's help?" She did not wait for his answer and addressed Christine next. "Get him upstairs to the other guest room, the one next to your room," she instructed. "Sit him down, we will have to take care of his shoulder before we can put him to bed. I will get some hot water and clean bandages etc. and I will be with you in a few minutes."

She went to fetch her medical supplies and first-aid kit, leaving Christine and Erik to themselves. "Come, Angel," Christine gently nudged her patient. "I know you can do it. I will help you, love. We are almost there." Erik thought he must be dreaming. Maybe he was delirious from the fever, for he had just imagined his Christine calling him "love". Slowly they managed to climb up the stairs to the upper floor and they made their way to the spare bedroom, where Erik collapsed exhausted into a chair.

It had taken them so long to reach the room that Mme. Giry was right behind them. She told Christine to make a fire while she had a look at Erik's shoulder. She paled after removing the bloody shirt. The wound was inflamed and swollen and it was high-time for her to remove the bullet. "Erik, you know that I have to get the bullet out of your shoulder right away," she told him. "This will hurt a lot. Of course I could fill you up with alcohol so that you won't feel it as much, but I'd rather not. I would prefer giving you some antibiotics afterwards, for the fever and the infection," she explained the procedure she would have to perform on him. He nodded silently, fighting another attack of coughing. "Your cough does not sound too good either, Erik," Mme. Giry continued. "That is a very bad cold you have contracted, and it has probably developed into pneumonia."

Christine was done with the fire by then and with her assistance Mme. Giry began to work on Erik's shoulder. He passed out almost immediately after she started probing the wound with the sterilized knife. Christine was feeling queasy just by watching, but she knew she had to be strong for Erik's sake and assist Mme. Giry as best she could. She understood that his life depended on the save removal of the bullet and disinfection of his wound. The two women silently worked together, fighting for the life of their patient.

An hour later, Mme. Giry had removed the bullet, cleaned the wound with a disinfectant, stitched it up and bandaged it. She put Erik's right arm in a sling to immobilize his injured shoulder as much as possible. The two women also cleaned him up as best they could, before pushing the chair he was in close to the bed, pulling back the covers and moving their unconscious patient on to the bed. It took their combined strength to shift the injured man while making sure not to touch his wounded shoulder.

"You may sit with him now, while I clean up," Mme. Giry told Christine. "And when I am done we will try to get some antibiotics into him. He needs the medication in order to fight off the fever and the infection." Christine looked at her, her brown eyes clouded with worry. "He will be fine, will he not?" she asked hesitantly. Mme. Giry did not answer immediately. She had been wondering the same. Had they got to Erik in time or was he too weak by now to beat the fever – caused by a combination of pneumonia and an infected bullet wound? "He has a fighting chance now," she finally said. "One never knows, there can be complications. His fever will definitely get worse before it gets better, but he is tough, and your presence will certainly boost his will to live. With a little bit of luck we will get him through this."

Christine nodded. It was as she had thought. There was no guarantee Erik would pull through, but the situation was not hopeless. She certainly would do all in her power to help him. She sat down at his bedside, grasped his uninjured left hand and kissed it. "Angel, I am so glad you are alive. I don't know what I would do if I had lost you," she whispered to the unconscious man. "I know now that I have made a terrible mistake. It is not Raoul I love, it is you." Her free hand lovingly caressed his disfigured right cheek. Did he hear her? Erik seemed to relax at her touch.


	6. Worry

I still don't own anything or anybody (sigh!), but I am very happy with your loyalty in reading and reviewing this story! I am afraid, Erik is still in pretty bad shape, but I am trying to be realistic. I always shake my head when I read stories where he is feverish, with infected wounds, one day and two days later he is back on his feet for the entire day without experiencing any problems.

Did you all remember all those hints I had given in previous chapters as to what would happen in chapter 5? That there was a garden with Mme. Giry's house, that she had first-aid training, that Christine was in the larger guest-bedroom (thus establishing that there was another one...)

Oh, and this is the chapter I promised you earlier that will explain why I think it is not out of character for Raoul to do things like ordering his men to kill Erik. At least not too much.

Chapter 6 – Worry

Sorrowful days lay ahead for the members of the Giry-household. Erik's condition remained critical, his fever continued to rise rather than to break. The three ladies were worried sick about him. Meg had taken over all the household duties, so that her mother and Christine could entirely concentrate on their patient. If it had not been for her, none of the other two women would have eaten or slept.

Mme. Giry and Christine took turns at Erik's bedside, they changed his bandages, put cool compresses to his forehead, and washed the fever sweat off his torso. They also fed him water with a teaspoon, to prevent dehydration and forced some medication, dissolved and diluted with water, down his throat. Nothing seemed to help, though. He had not regained consciousness yet and his fever remained strong. Sometimes he was just lying there, apathetically, unconscious, but sometimes he would get delirious. Then he seemed to relive the worst experiences of his life, pleading with his mother to kiss him, his gypsy master not to beat him or with Christine not to leave him. Those scenes were heart-breaking to witness. When Erik was in the throes of delirium he also started to writhe and toss around, which was not conducive to the healing of his shoulder.

In such cases only Christine's presence would calm him. Once she was sitting next to him, holding his hand and whispering words of love to him, he usually relaxed. As much as Mme. Giry had insisted at first that Christine leave Erik's sickroom for a few hours every day to get some sleep herself, this had proven impossible. As soon as Erik grew agitated, he needed her by his side. So she had started to take short naps in a chair in his room, where she always was at hand as soon as he got delirious.

Mme. Giry was positively impressed by Christine. If she ever had had doubts about the young woman's feelings for Erik, they were long gone. It was as if Christine had suddenly grown up. The girl uncertain of her feelings had given way to a determined young woman, fighting for the life of the man she loved. Mme. Giry admired Christine's strength, how she pushed aside her own tiredness and exhaustion to sit with her delirious Angel, to hold his hand, caress him, kiss him and whisper words of love into his ear. It was touching to see, how he seemed to sense her presence, how she apparently was able to reach his subconscious mind and calm him down when nothing else could. These two quite obviously had a very deep and unusually strong connection. Mme. Giry knew that Christine was aware of Erik's condition, that as days went by, she was preparing herself for the worst. But as worried as Christine was, as much as it hurt her to see Erik suffer so much, she always put up a brave face, fought back her tears and concentrated on caring for her beloved as best she could.

On the third day, the Vicomte had called at his usual hour. Mme. Giry had met him at the door and asked him to respect their grief by granting them a few more days to deal with their loss. After all, the Phantom had been her protégé and Christine's voice coach and they had cared for him despite everything. The Vicomte had not been pleased with this answer and Mme. Giry suspected that sooner or later a big confrontation would be inevitable. They would cross that bridge once they reached it. At the moment their priority was Erik, they had to focus on caring for him.

Xxxx

Christine sat at Erik's bedside, putting cold compresses to his burning hot feverish forehead. She looked at his bare face. How could she ever have been frightened or shocked at this sight? The deformity was part of Erik, and she loved every wrinkle and every piece of malformed flesh. She now preferred his own, blondish hair to the black wig, even though it was thinning and partly absent on the right side of her Erik's skull. Her Erik! How much she loved him now. She could not understand anymore how she ever had been in doubt about her true feelings.

She looked back at her encounters with the two men competing for her love. Who had been there for her when her father died and she needed somebody to help her deal with her loss, the ensuing loneliness? When she needed somebody who would love her and that she could love back? It had not been Raoul. It had not been the young family friend, who she might have hoped to count on for support. Raoul had been nowhere near when she needed a friend. To be fair, his family probably would not have allowed him to stay in close contact with her, but he had not even written once, and even when he was older and not depending on his family's permission anymore he never had tried to see his "Little Lotte" again. He had not even noticed her that first day, when he had come to the set of "Hannibal" during the rehearsal. Only when she had become a diva had his interest in her been reborn.

Even then, he had behaved as if he was honoring her with his attention. After having brought up the story of Little Lotte himself he had almost condescendingly ignored her assertion that she had an Angel of Music as well, just like the girl in the story. He then had practically ordered her to go for supper with him, as if "no" would not be an acceptable answer. She had not wanted to go out with him, she had been hoping to talk to her Angel later that night, but Raoul had insisted. He had not even bothered to ask if she was maybe too tired to go out with him, or at least if she had somebody who could act as her chaperone. Had he thought that since they had known each other as children, her reputation would not be at stake if she, a performer at the Opera, went out for supper with one of the Opera's patrons?

How different Erik was. He had always cared for her, been there for her. She thought back to the first months of their relationship when he had comforted the mourning girl. Yes, he had lied to her, but she now understood his motives. Mme. Giry had told her about Erik's time with the gypsies. Of course he had been afraid that she would not be able to deal with the truth. After all, when her Angel had first spoken to her, she had only been seven years old, and he probably feared that his face would frighten her and had therefore hidden behind his Angel-persona. He had not set out to deceive her, he had wanted to protect her from the truth, and to protect himself as well. And later on he had hoped that once she knew him for the person he was she would be able to accept him despite his handicap.

She remembered how even after "Il Muto" and Buquet's murder her trust in Erik had never been broken. How she had never been afraid in his presence, although she knew that he had killed. How she had always known that she was safe with him, that he was no threat to her. She had not been afraid at the masquerade, she had not been afraid when she had met him at the cemetery, at her father's grave, not even when he had suddenly appeared on stage, performing the sensuous love duet between Don Juan and Aminta with her. Instinctively, her heart had always known where it belonged. It had only been when she listened to the so-called "voice of reason" – to the opinions of others, mostly Raoul, she now realized – that she had backed away from her first love.

Raoul had practically forced her to perform in "Don Juan Triumphant". She had been very reluctant to do so and had told him so in no uncertain terms. But once again, Raoul had not accepted no for an answer, he had not cared for what she wanted, he had insisted, had repeated that everything depended on her – as if her cooperation would somehow free the world of a great threat. She shuddered. Raoul had said it even then. She had forgotten. Raoul had said that only her Angel's death would free them. He had never intended to capture him and let him face trial for Buquet's murder. Considering what she had learned from Mme. Giry she now knew that there was at least some doubt as to whether or not that had really been a premeditated murder rather than a confrontation between two men that the stronger one had won. Raoul might have known that as well and suspected that Erik would go free or would only be sentenced to a very short term. He had therefore never considered a trial. He wanted to get rid of his rival once and for all. He had planned to get Erik killed. What had he said? Something like "Yet while he lives, he will haunt us till we're dead". She should have known. Whatever he had said about freeing her – them – his intention had always been to kill the rival. Under these circumstances it really should not have come as a surprise to her that he had ordered his men to ambush Erik, trying to have him killed.

How different her two suitors were! Raoul seemed to be the kind, sweet one, but he was willing to kill to get what he wanted. No, she corrected herself. He was willing to let others do the dirty work for him: the gendarmes, her as his bait, now his men. Erik, on the other hand, seemed to be the dangerous one, the one with the violent temper. Yet he was the one who had accepted her "no" – how stupid had she been? He had taken into consideration what she wanted. He had let her go with the rival. And if _he_ had problems with somebody, he confronted that person himself, fought his own fights and did not pay others to get rid of an enemy.

Her eyes wandered from Erik's face over to the nightstand, where the ring lay. When she had noticed that Erik was actually wearing the ring on his heart she had been very touched by this gesture of unending love and loyalty. At first she had wanted to leave the ring where it was, but when Erik had started to have his delirious phases, she had agreed with Mme. Giry that it would be better to remove the ring from his neck – so that he would not strangle himself during his fever attacks. So they had put it on the nightstand, where he would be able to see it, should he awake and miss the ring. Christine ached to put the ring back on her finger again, but she knew that at the moment she had no right to do so. She had returned it. She would have to wait till Erik offered her the ring again. She listened to his labored breathing and put a fresh compress on his forehead. If only he survived this illness. If only their love had still a chance!

Xxxx

Slightly over a week had passed since Erik had found his way to Mme. Giry's house, but despite all the efforts and all the loving care of his two nurses, his condition had not improved. It was becoming clear that the decision over life or death was approaching. He was getting weaker by the day, and both, Mme. Giry and Christine, were aware that unless they could somehow help him break his fever, they would lose him.

Erik had been particularly agitated all day, Christine had barely been able to leave his side even for a short period of rest or for lunch. His unrest seemed to increase as it got dark. Mme. Giry and Christine knew that their patient would have a bad night, when heavy rain started to fall, and the raindrops began to beat against the window. The constant drumming of the rain would annoy a healthy person, for the delirious man on his sickbed the steady, monotonous sound must be torture. And it also got on the nerves of the two ladies intent on caring for him.

The next few hours were a nightmare come true for Christine and Mme. Giry. Erik's fever seemed to rise even more, periods of utter apathy were followed by periods of raving delirium that were so severe, that even Christine had problems calming him. More than once Mme. Giry feared that Erik's weakened body would not be able to withstand those fever attacks any longer, but somehow he persevered. Christine was close to her breaking point but knowing that Erik needed her love more than anything right now, she pulled herself together and helped Mme. Giry in her efforts to fight Erik's fever. They fed him antibiotics, renewed the cool compresses, sponged him down to cool his burning body, and Christine held his hand, caressed his beloved face and begged him not to leave her.

Around midnight, Erik's delirium reached a new high. He was apparently reliving the night of the fire, the night he had let Christine go. "No," he screamed. "No, Christine, don't leave me. I know I told you that you could go, but if you leave me, I will die!" Christine's heart ached for him, and she felt guilty, knowing it was her doing that he was haunted by such a fever-induced nightmare. "Oh my darling," she sobbed, pulling Erik's left hand to her heart. "I am so sorry. I did not know yet how much I love you. Can you ever forgive me for hurting you so badly? But I am here with you now, do you hear me, can you feel my heart beat? I will never leave you again," she pleaded with him. "Angel! Listen to me! I am here with you!" Erik did not seem to react to her this time. He was getting more and more agitated. "My Christine, how can I live without you? I love you so much," he continued to mumble. Christine prayed. "Oh my God, please help me, let me get through to him, let him understand that I am here with him and that I do love him. He does not believe me anymore and I cannot blame him…" She was getting desperate. Erik was losing his battle against the fever. He seemed to get weaker by the minute.

Christine finally broke down in tears, she knelt next to Erik's bed, rested her head on his good shoulder, wrapping her left arm tightly around Erik's chest and sobbed. "Don't leave me, my love, or at least take me with you, I cannot live without you, I love you so much." Maybe it was her desperation, maybe it was the increased physical contact, but Erik seemed to finally sense her presence. A faint smile played across his face as if in recognition. His eyes seemed to focus on her and he whispered almost inaudibly "Christine". Then he fell back into his pillows, closed his eyes and slept.

The room was silent for a few moments, except for Christine's continued sobs. When she sensed Erik relax, she calmed down. Something felt different.

Mme. Giry noticed it first. She put her hand on Erik's forehead to confirm her diagnosis and nodded to herself, smiling. She had been right. He was not unconscious anymore. The fever had broken. His body temperature, while still a bit on the high side, was approaching normal. He was sleeping. He was breathing regularly. The crisis lay behind them. Erik would live.

"Christine," she whispered, careful not to wake their patient. "Look at Erik. He is asleep." Christine looked up. Yes, Mme. Giry was right. He was asleep. Peacefully. His chest rose and fell regularly. His forehead was not bathed in sweat anymore and his face had taken on a healthier color. "Oh, Mme. Giry," she whispered, afraid to give in to the wave of hope that suddenly washed through her. "Does that mean…?" Mme. Giry hugged her. "Yes," she confirmed. "His fever has finally broken. He will live."

The relief came so sudden after such long hours and days of fearing the worst, that Christine almost collapsed. Mme. Giry smiled. "You'd better go to bed now as well. Erik will sleep at least till mid-morning, maybe even all of tomorrow. In fact, the longer he sleeps, the better for him. He is very weak and will need a lot of rest to get his strength back. So now is your perfect chance to catch up on your sleep as well. You certainly want to be well rested when Erik wakes" she teased her surrogate daughter. "Or do you want him to see you with those rings around your eyes that all the sleepless nights at his bedside have caused you?" Christine smiled. She was so happy. Erik would be fine now. Her Angel had survived the crisis. Nothing else mattered. "I doubt he would mind," she said, "as long as I love him and we are together." With that she left the room to try and find some sleep as well.

Mme. Giry followed her with her eyes. That was indeed the most important thing. She sat down next to Erik's bed. He had remained victorious in his battle against the fever. Love had helped him win. And from now on love would be an important factor in the life of this man, who had experienced so little love until now. Mme. Giry was happy for her two protégés who had just gotten a second chance at happiness together.


	7. Confrontation

No change here: Nobody suddenly gave me the rights to POTO, so I still don't own anything or anybody.

Many thanks to all my loyal readers and reviewers, those that have put me or this story on alert, etc.! Your support is very much appreciated!

As to the story - you did not expect Erik to wake up, him and Christine kissing and living happily ever after, or did you? Things will turn out that way in the end, but the two still have a certain road ahead of them before they can find happiness together. Complication number 1 is approaching - the fo.. uh.. Vicomte is back. I had originally planned to have that confrontation happen only a day or two after Erik was shot, but I decided that this would be really a bit too much for Christine, so I got Erik out of danger first. At least she does not have to worry about him while confronting Raoul.

PS - Erik will wake up soon!

Chapter 7 – Confrontation

Meg was the first one up the next morning, even though she had slept in. The rain last night had kept her awake for a long time and she was still tired. But of course someone had to get down to the kitchen and make breakfast, and since her mother and Christine were probably tending to the injured Phantom – Erik – that someone had to be her.

She filled the kettle with water to prepare tea and arranged croissants, butter and jam on a tray, when she looked out of the window and saw the de Chagny carriage approaching. The Vicomte! They had not seen him for a few days and none of them had been thinking of him. Their minds had been occupied elsewhere. What was he doing here now at this early hour? It was not even ten o'clock yet, hardly a suitable time for a visit.

Meg was not quite sure what she should tell him. Quickly she ran upstairs to Erik's room where she was certain to find her mother, to ask for her advice. She gently opened the door, so as not to disturb the patient. Then she stopped dead in her tracks, surprised, and beamed. She was not sure what she had expected to see, but considering Erik's condition over the past few days, she had been mentally preparing to become a shoulder to cry on for Christine. And probably for her mother as well. She personally did not know Erik, she had not even been properly introduced to him yet, though she assumed he knew who she was. But her mother seemed quite fond of him, and Christine! Oh my God, her best friend and sister was head over heels in love with the man! Meg thought he must be really special if Christine was so utterly devoted to him. His grotesque, disfigured face certainly could not have won him her heart.

Anyway, she had expected to find the other two ladies fussing over an ailing Erik. Instead she saw her mother sitting at his bedside, quietly watching him sleep. She immediately grasped the significance of what she saw. He was out of danger. Erik would live and hopefully make a full recovery. She was happy for Christine. Her friend would be so relieved!

Mme. Giry turned around. She had heard the door open and expected Christine to come and sit with Erik for a while. "Meg?" she asked surprised. "Is something the matter?" Meg nodded. "The Vicomte,…" Mme. Giry stood and left the room, motioning Meg to follow her. Once both were outside, she closed the door behind them. Erik was still a convalescent and very weak. He needed his rest. Whatever problems the other members of the household had to face, all commotion had to be kept away from him.

"Now you can tell me," she encouraged Meg. "What did you say, the Vicomte?" Meg concentrated on the problem at hand. "I was looking out of the window while preparing breakfast, when I saw his carriage approaching. He should be here any time now. What do I tell him?" Mme. Giry thought about it for a moment. "I will go down and meet him," she decided. "You go and wake Christine. He will probably not leave before he has seen her. I will tell him that she has not been sleeping well recently, she has nightmares of her former teacher dying, being in pain etc. and that she therefore is not feeling too well and is suffering from a bad headache." The ringing doorbell interrupted her. "Quick," she told Meg, "wake Christine and tell her what to say. She can probably excuse herself after a few minutes with a migraine, then she can go and sit with Erik. Although he is much better, I would not want to leave him alone for too long. He will probably sleep for a few more hours, but still..." With that she ran down the stairs to answer the door.

"Oh, Monsieur le Vicomte," she greeted the visitor. "What brings you to us at this early hour?" He looked at her sharply. "Do you really have to ask? I want to see my fiancée. I want to discuss the wedding date with her. The monster is gone, he is not standing between us anymore. I have given her more than a week to get used to the fact that she does not have to fear him anymore. I have tried to be considerate and respect her feelings. It is now her turn to accept my wishes. I do not want to wait any longer."

Oh, oh. Mme. Giry did not like the sound of those words. It would not be easy to appease him and send him his way without totally offending him. It would not help to turn him into an enemy. Of course it would be best if she could send Erik and Christine out of town for a while, maybe even out of the country, to get them as far away from the Vicomte's reach as possible, but Erik would not be strong enough to travel for weeks to come, and until then, they had to stall for time and keep the Vicomte happy.

"Of course," she smiled engagingly. "I can understand that you long to see Christine. She should be down any moment. You must excuse us, Monsieur," she continued, "but the rain kept us up late last night, and we are only now getting up."

Raoul nodded condescendingly. He had to admit that the rain had been bad enough to disturb sensible, female minds. He was about to make a snide remark in this direction, when Christine and Meg entered. Christine smiled at him shyly. "Raoul, good morning," she greeted him hesitantly. "Christine, you look fantastic!" Raoul exclaimed. Mme. Giry's discreet cough ended the slightly awkward moment. "Maybe we should go take a seat in the parlor," she suggested. The Vicomte took Christine's arm to lead her to a comfortable chair in the adjoining room. Christine tried her best not to shy away from him, smiling at him bravely.

"Christine, right before you joined us I was just telling Mme. Giry that I want to set a date for our wedding," Raoul informed her sweetly as if they had parted on the best of terms at their last meeting. Christine looked uneasily to Mme. Giry. What should she say? Surely Raoul must remember that she had told him she'd never marry him, after he had boasted about how he had gotten rid of "that thing". But she also understood that it would not be wise to provoke him. She had to choose her words carefully. "Raoul, I am sorry, but I am not feeling too well," she began hesitantly. "You know that there was heavy rain last night, which kept me up a long time, and you also know that I have been pretty preoccupied lately because of what happened to – my Angel," she continued, boldly. That was close enough to the truth, she thought.

"Angel," Raoul scoffed. "How can you call that monster your Angel?" Christine stood her ground. "You know that he was my Angel. He was there for me when I needed somebody after my father's death. He helped me deal with my loss and he helped me with my music, he trained my voice. He made it possible for me to become a prima donna. Without him you might never have met me again." Christine was proud of herself. She was basically telling the truth while at the same time avoiding to directly address Raoul's question.

Raoul was growing impatient. He was not getting into that particular discussion again. "Be that as it may," he acknowledged, "as I told you a few days ago, he is dead and gone. He will not haunt you anymore, you are finally free. I have given you over a week to get used to that idea, grief him, if you must, but now it is time for the living. You are my fiancée, I want you to become my wife as soon as possible. Do not put me off any longer."

Christine looked to Mme. Giry for help again. She was at a loss as to how to continue the conversation. She definitely was not going to marry Raoul! Nobody could force her! "Monsieur le Vicomte," Mme. Giry intervened. "Christine mentioned earlier that she is not feeling too well. She looks pretty pale to me. Christine, darling, is your migraine troubling you again?" she dropped a hint for Christine on which direction best to take the conversation.

"I.. I think it is starting again," Christine took up the clue, wincing, as if in pain. "I am sorry, Raoul, but whenever I think of my Angel's fate – and you just reminded me of him – I get visions of him suffering, bleeding to death, in pain, dying alone, and then my head hurts and I need to lie down in a dark room."

"He has not released you even in death!" Raoul seethed. "You need to get him out of your mind. I should be insulted that you cling like that to the memory of another man, and a murderous madman at that!"

Christine finally stood up very erect. She knew she might regret her next words later, but she had had enough. "Raoul," she addressed the Vicomte. "You were my dear friend and childhood sweetheart. I was going to marry you. If there has been an estrangement between us, it is your fault. Just in case you don't remember: I don't like people killing each other. I did turn away from my Angel, when he killed Buquet. Buquet meant nothing to me, but I had a problem with him being killed. Can you give me one good reason why I should stick with you, after you gave orders to kill my Angel? Why should I forgive your killing when I did not forgive his?"

The room suddenly was so silent one could have heard a needle drop. "Also," she continued softly, "I seem to remember that I already told you that I will not be able to marry you anymore after what you have done to – him. I don't want us to become enemies, I want to be able to remember you as my childhood friend. I want to be able to look back on those early days of our relationship, when my father still lived, and enjoy the fond memories. But please do not expect me to marry you. I cannot do so anymore after what has happened. I am officially calling the engagement off."

She looked Raoul directly in the eyes. "I am sorry," she said. "I am aware you did not know you would hurt me so badly by ordering your men to kill my Angel. You may even have thought it was for my best. You meant well, I realize that. But I cannot marry you anymore. And now allow me to retire, my migraine is getting unbearable." With that she left the room and went back upstairs – to her Erik's bedside.

Mme. Giry was proud of her. Somehow, Christine had told the Vicomte the truth without saying anything too insulting. She had even tried hard to keep him in a good mood. She had asked him to remain her friend, had told him that she truly believed his intentions had been good and that he had not intended to hurt her, while at the same time insisting that his attack on Erik was unforgivable. Maybe, just maybe, she could calm the Vicomte enough that he would not leave the house as their enemy. At least not today. For she was sure he would be back. He did not seem to accept Christine's refusal to marry him. Mme. Giry wondered, had he ever been denied anything in his life? Had he never learned to accept a no?

"Christine, wait,.." the Vicomte's voice echoed through the room. Mme. Giry gently put her hand on his arm and pleaded with him: "Please, Monsieur, let her go for now. As you have seen, she is not quite herself. As I told you a while ago, she has been through a lot over the past few months. Too much has happened in her life too fast. She needs time to adjust. She was doing so well, starting to overcome her emotional troubles, when the news of her former teacher's death once again threw her into a turmoil of emotions. Yes, I know, you did not mean to upset her by ordering your men to kill him. You thought you would free her of his influence. But you have to understand that she owes him a lot, her voice, her career, her feelings for him are mixed. She does not totally abhor him, she is also very grateful to him. And part of her thinks that it is her fault that you had him killed, that she is in a way responsible for what has happened to him." There, Mme. Giry thought that Christine was not the only one who could basically tell the truth and at the same time make it sound like something the Vicomte wanted to hear. She was proud of herself as well.

"Monsieur le Vicomte," she continued. "Christine said herself that she wants to remain friends with you. I am sure she will be able to forgive you eventually, because she knows you meant no harm. But you cannot expect her to do so within a few days. She will need more time than that."

Raoul looked down at her. "But she does not want to marry me anymore. She said so herself. I bet she loves that monster. He is stealing her from me even in death."

Mme. Giry shrugged her shoulders. "I have told you already, that if she wanted him she could have had him. All I know is that right now she is upset and needs to be left alone. If you truly love her, you will respect that and stay away from her for a little while longer. She is not going anywhere, she will be staying here with me, and once she has calmed down – and you as well – you will both hopefully return to once again being the good friends you used to be." Mme. Giry thought by herself that she somewhat doubted that, but her primary goal was to get the Vicomte out of the house without alienating him and turning him into an enemy at the same time. She shuddered inwardly at the thought of what that spoiled young man, who apparently had never had to accept the answer no in all his life, would do if he knew that Erik was not only alive, but here in her house, and that Christine had finally chosen Erik and was probably sitting at his bedside right now.

Raoul nodded. "I do love Christine," he said a bit more calmly. "Very much so. I guess I have been pushing her too hard. I also think I may have underestimated her devotion to that hideous madman. But you are right. She is not going anywhere, and he is dead. He will not be able to compete with me for her anymore. Once she will get over her current mood, she will realize that a warm, living lover is better than the memories of a dead ghost and that it is not wise for an unemployed singer to turn down the marriage proposal of a wealthy patron of the arts. I do not think her "no" today was her final answer. I will give her a few more weeks for this caprice of hers. I should go to my estate in Normandy anyway, I have to order a few things there. I had hoped I could take her with me. But I will give her till my return from there. Tell her I love her and will be back in a few weeks. But please note, that I will not wait patiently for her for all eternity. Next time I call on her, she'd better treat me a bit more friendly." Mme. Giry was not sure she wanted to know what exactly he had meant with that. She was glad, Christine had not lost her heart to that man. She had to admit that she had been fooled by his sweet ways as well, but the truth was, there was not much more to him than a spoiled brat used to getting his every wish.

"Certainly," she obliged the Vicomte, seeing him to the door. After he had finally left and his carriage was out of sight, she exhaled, relieved. They had once again stalled for time, kept the Vicomte at arm's length for a few more weeks – hopefully time enough for Erik to fully recover, and she hoped they had done or said nothing that might make the young nobleman doubt Erik's death. Though the more time passed without Erik's body being found, and with Christine continuing to refuse to marry the Vicomte, the day would probably come sooner rather than later, when Raoul would start to suspect that his rival was still alive and kicking.

Mme. Giry went upstairs to find Christine to tell her what had happened after she had left the room and to check on Erik. As she had thought, she found Christine at Erik's side and the latter still asleep. She motioned Christine out of the room, so that Erik would not be disturbed by their conversation. She relayed the Vicomte's message to Christine almost word by word. Christine shuddered. "I once thought Erik would never let me go," she whispered. "But he did, and I was mistaken. I am so glad I found out in time what a terrible mistake I was about to make. In reality it is Raoul who won't let me go!" Mme. Giry comfortingly put an arm around her. "He ultimately will have to accept your choice. We will find a way to free you of his influence, so that you and Erik can live in peace and maybe raise a family together." Christine blushed at that thought. A family with Erik… children… she smiled brightly. Yes, that was the future she wanted. She went back to sit at her beloved's bedside and wait for him to wake up, so that she could finally tell him that she did indeed love him after all.


	8. Healing

I still don't own anything or anybody, sorry!

Thank you very much for your continued support! Yes, NS and Fairyteyla, I am rather proud of the idea to send Raoul to Normandy for a few weeks. I figured it would get boring if he banged on the door every other day and got the same answer!

And the idea that Mme. Giry would feel protective of her 'family' - I actually got that from the movie. She does know about their love, she does bring Christine Erik's roses. And she sees him lock her dressing room door from the outside and taking the key with him, so that Raoul won't be able to get to her. She knows exactly who Christine will be spending the night with (well, not the way this sounds, but still, they are together that night) and she quite obviously approves. She does not interfere...

Anyway, on to the story, Erik is finally waking up and things are getting a bit fluffy.

Chapter 8 – Healing

In the late afternoon Erik began to stir, thus showing that he was about to wake up. Mme. Giry left the room to give Christine some privacy for her first conversation with Erik since his injury and to make sure Erik did not feel too crowded. After all, he was used to solitude. She went down to the kitchen and heated some of the chicken broth that Meg had prepared earlier. Erik would probably not eat much, his stomach would not be used to food anymore, but even a few spoonfuls were better than nothing. He had lost a lot of weight and the fever and blood loss had weakened him considerably. Now that his fever had broken, the next step would be for him to regain his strength. It would take a while, but with Christine at his side to encourage him and to boost his morale, Mme. Giry had no doubts that in a few weeks Erik would be back on his feet.

Xxx

Christine was sitting at Erik's bedside, watching him quietly. She knew he was about to wake up. She was a bit nervous. How much would he remember? Did he know it had been the Vicomte's men to shoot him? Did he remember anything she had said to him during his fever delirium? Did he remember that she loved him or would she have to tell him again? What exactly had she said to him that night when she had found him half-dead in Mme. Giry's garden? Had she even told him yet about her love? No, there had not really been time for that, he had been in such bad shape and tending to his wound had been her first priority.

She suddenly had a feeling of being watched. Her thoughts immediately returned to her patient and looking back to the bed she saw that he was lying there motionless, his eyes open, gazing at her in wonder. Christine beamed. Erik had finally woken up, his eyes were focusing on her in recognition. He definitely was fully conscious and aware of his surroundings. Even though since late last night she had already known he would be fine, to actually see him so much improved made her heart sing.

Christine smiled at Erik, her eyes bright with love. "Angel," she whispered, relieved. "Angel, thank God, you are finally awake." Erik observed her quietly. He was doubting his sanity. He was not quite sure where he was, but it was obviously a room, and he was lying comfortably in a bed. What was he doing there, how had he gotten there? And what was Christine doing there? He vaguely remembered being dead, or almost dead. Ah, that was it! He had found a logical explanation for the situation at hand. "I must still be dreaming," he muttered. "I am imagining my Christine being with me and caring for me."

The dream was getting better by the minute. Now Christine took his left hand in both of hers and held it close, smiling. "You are not dreaming, Erik. I am really here with you. And I am not going to leave you ever again. Can you feel that I am real?" she asked teasingly. Erik did not dare to move for fear the dream would dissolve somehow and Christine would disappear. Surely she could not really be there at his bedside, smiling at him, telling him she would never leave him again? That dream did feel so real, though, he swore he could sense her little hands on his. But had she just called him Erik? He did not think he had ever told her his name. The real Christine would not know. He must be imagining this.

Another thought crossed his mind. He did not remember much, but he was fairly sure he had not been wearing a mask, he had not brought one with him when he had fled from the mob, so his face must be uncovered, bare. Surely she would not look at him like that if his deformity was exposed? His right hand tried to reach for his face to feel if the mask was in place, but he found he could not move his arm, that it was pretty much immobilized by a sling. "Do not worry, Angel," the apparition of Christine told him. "We had to put your arm in a sling to help your shoulder heal. Soon you will not need the sling anymore and you will regain full use of your arm and shoulder."

Erik nodded. That made sense. Unlike pretty much everything else he was experiencing at the moment. But he did remember the bullet wound to his shoulder now. And his face felt definitely naked, even though he was not able to touch it with his right hand – and Christine's fingers still caressed his left hand – he was fairly certain now that he was not wearing a mask, that his hideous face lay bare for everybody to see. And Christine was looking at him – not just without disgust, fear or shock, but actually lovingly? He once again decided he must be dreaming. There was no way this could really be happening. Soon he would wake up and Christine would be gone. But, he thought, there was no reason he could not enjoy the dream while it lasted.

"My face," he finally asked. "How can you bear looking at it?" Christine put her left hand on the right side of his face and tenderly cupped his disfigured cheek. "It is part of you, Erik, I love you, all of you, that does include your face. You do not have to hide behind a mask for me. And I have told you before, that your face holds no horror for me anymore. Even when I saw it for the first time I was more shocked by your anger than by your face. And since then I have learned to see the person behind the mask." She smiled at him encouragingly. "But," she added. "We do have one of your masks here at the house. Meg brought it home the night of the fire. She had gone with the mob to look for me and while in your underground home she found one of your masks and took it with her. Once you are well enough to get up and leave the house you will have a mask to wear, if that thought makes you feel more at ease." Erik barely listened to what she was saying. He was on cloud seven. He relished her gentle touch on his deformed cheek – her caress felt so real, and her slender fingers definitely felt wonderful on his sensitive, marred flesh. Nobody had ever before touched the right side of his face so lovingly. He leaned into her touch, abandoning himself to this unusual, but stimulating sensation.

Erik finally remembered that he still had no idea where he was. "Where.. how..," he mumbled. God, he was so weak, he felt as depleted as if he had run the full marathon distance at world record speed. Twice. Fortunately Christine understood what he meant. "You were suffering from pneumonia and a bullet wound to your shoulder. You thought you were dying and came to see me. At least that's how I understand it." She blushed. "I found you in the garden, you were on the verge of collapsing, you needed help, so I brought you in and Mme. Giry and I have cared for you ever since. You had us worried for a few days, you were unconscious for over a week and your fever was dangerously high, but you are on the way of recovery now. You will soon be strong and healthy again," she added encouragingly. Listening to her, Erik's memories of the last hours before he had passed out returned. Yes, he had tried to reach Christine, to see her one last time before he died. Was this real after all? Her hand caressing his deformity certainly felt real. "Christine, I love you," he whispered. God, he was beginning to think that maybe this was not a dream, that his Christine was really here with him and he was way too weak to take her in his arms and kiss her!

Christine's face seemed even more radiant than before at this confession. "I love you, too, my Angel," she whispered, her face turning the most becoming shade of pink. They looked each other in the eyes, overwhelmed by their feelings.

A knock on the door brought them back to reality. "Excuse the interruption," Mme. Giry said. She stood in the door, a bowl of something steaming in her hands, and was quite obviously touched by the mutual adoration in the eyes of the two lovebirds in front of her. She thought to herself that these two really were made for each other. "It is good to see you are finally awake, Erik," she continued, smiling at her friend. "I brought you some chicken soup. Try to eat at least a few spoonfuls. You do want to get your strength back, don't you?" Erik nodded. Now that she mentioned it, he felt hungry. Not ravenous, but a bit hungry.

"Are you strong enough to sit up, or do you need some help with that?" Mme. Giry inquired calmly. Erik tried, but he was far too weak to even raise himself up on one elbow. Mme. Giry put the bowl down on the nightstand and motioned Christine to get another pillow from the chair where Christine had used to nap while Erik's condition had still been critical. "Here, Erik, let me help you," she pulled him up into a half-sitting position and Christine shoved the second pillow behind his back to prop him up against it. Then Christine actually sat down on the bed beside him, the bowl in her hands, and began to feed him. Erik was not quite sure if he should feel ashamed at his weakness and helplessness or delighted that she was coddling him like that, he finally decided on the latter and obediently opened his mouth when she approached it with a spoon full of chicken broth. The soup was rather bland, of course they would use salt and pepper sparingly on food for a convalescent patient, but he was hungry enough – or motivated enough by Christine's presence and willingness to help him - that he ate about half the bowl's content.

Mme. Giry was satisfied. Erik had indeed eaten more than she had expected. If he continued like that, he would not be quite as weak and helpless much longer. "Now let me have a look at your shoulder, Erik," she told him, "and then you can go back to sleep." Erik had to admit that he did feel sleepy again. He watched as Mme. Giry and Christine exchanged the bandages on his shoulder. The ladies were happy with the result of the examination. Erik's shoulder looked much less swollen and the inflammation was much improved, too, the wound was now healing properly. Once they were finished, they removed the additional pillow again so that he could lie flat on his back. They were barely finished when Erik had already fallen asleep again.

Xxxx

Erik slept a lot over the next week or so, though his waking periods slowly increased, both in length and in number. He was getting a bit stronger every day as well. His progress was slow, but steady. Every day he would get a little bit less dependent on his two nurses . One day he was able to hold a glass and drink all by himself, another day he could sit up without help. After a few days of liquid food like broth and fruit juice, his diet had been slightly adjusted to include soft, mushy food like apple sauce or mashed potatoes. His stomach was slowly getting used to regular nourishment again and Mme. Giry thought that Erik would soon be able to try solid food.

Christine was ecstatic over every small improvement Erik made and barely left his side when he was awake, to help him, encourage him and motivate him again when he was getting frustrated and his temper flared, because his recovery was not progressing as quickly as he would have wanted.

Erik had finally accepted that he was not dreaming, that Christine was really there at his side, helping him, worrying over him, fussing over him. The first days, when he still had been too weak to think about it, he had not questioned her feelings. But the stronger he got and the more he thought about it, he had to admit to himself that he was not quite sure what to make of her sudden change of heart. As much as he wanted to believe in Christine's feelings, he could not forget a certain night on the rooftop of the Opera Populaire, when his beloved Christine had kissed that boy and had exchanged vows of love with him. Memories of her dancing with the Vicomte at the masquerade on New Year's Eve and of her leaving him in the boat with the Vicomte haunted and tormented him. There were other memories, though, as well. Memories of Christine begging her Angel to finally show himself to her, of her trustingly following him to his lair, of them singing together on stage and her allowing him to hold her close and caress her. She had seemed to enjoy his caresses, and then… his heart ached again at the memory of her betrayal, when she had ripped off his mask and exposed his horrid face to the entire audience.

No, he could not trust her anymore. It was impossible that she loved him, but maybe she had somehow convinced herself that she did so now? But she kissed you later that night, a voice whispered in his mind. You had not asked for it, all you wanted was her promise to stay with you. She would not have had to kiss you, yet she did it nevertheless, twice. Maybe she does like you after all. No, he silenced the voice in his mind. That was not out of love. She kissed me out of pity. Pity… could that be what she was feeling for him right now? Erik considered the possibility. Yes, that would make sense. He had been very ill, she had seen him in his miserable condition and her kind heart had suffered at seeing him so weak and helpless. She felt sorry for him and mistook her pity for love.

Once Erik got stronger and they felt he would be able to deal with unpleasant news, the ladies also told him that part of the story that he had not known yet: that it had been the Vicomte's men who had ambushed and shot him at the Vicomte's orders. Erik thought he now understood Christine's attitude towards him. It was not just pity but a combination of pity and guilt. She obviously felt somehow responsible for her fiancé's actions. Maybe she also was a little bit mad at the Vicomte for what he had done – it felt good to imagine her actually caring enough for her fallen angel that she would not want him to be shot in the streets like a rabid dog. She must mistake this combination of pity, guilt and anger at the Vicomte for love for him. Yes, that was the only explanation that made sense. Erik was proud of himself for having figured it out. Of course, now that he knew the truth, he should tell her to leave him alone. It was undignified that he continued to accept her acts of pity now that he knew them for what they were – he had not wanted her pity the first time around. He had sent her away despite her kisses.

But… then his body had been strong and healthy, except for the madness induced by his jealousy, and even then sending her away had very nearly broken him. Now… he was so weak and only slowly regaining his strength. He was not even able yet to stand on his own two feet again, so helpless was he at the moment. If he sent her away now, his heart would definitely break. For a few moments he wondered if it would make any difference, whether his heart broke now or later, but his will to live was already strong enough again that he decided he would put off the inevitable as long as possible – until he would be strong enough to physically survive the pain of losing her again. As much as his mind kept telling him to reject Christine's affection, since it could not be genuine love, his body and his senses craved her attention, and when she looked at him, her eyes shining bright with adoration, when she held his hand, caressed his face or just called him "love", all his resolution was gone and he gave in to the wonderful feeling of being with his loved one, and he imagined what it would be like if she actually meant it and if he were loved – like any other man.

Christine was not aware of Erik's doubts regarding her feelings for him. She showered him with her love, seeking physical contact by holding his hand or caressing his face – something he seemed to particularly enjoy -, using all sorts of endearments when talking to him, smiling at him and singing for him. She saw how he craved those tiny signs of her affection, how just a word like her calling him "my love" would wake the old fire in his eyes and she knew with the sixth sense of a woman in love that her feelings were returned. As long as he was pretty much helpless, she did not expect anything from him, but when he started to regain his strength, she slowly began to grow a bit restless, for despite all the very obvious proof she had of Erik's unchanged love and devotion for her, one day after the next passed, the days turned into weeks, and Erik still had not asked her again to marry him.


	9. Flight

Okay, a few things: First, I still don't own anything or anybody - unfortunately!

Second, I am back to work, which means updates will come at much longer intervals now, please bear with me, I am not going to abandon this story or my loyal readers and reviewers, I am already working on the next chapter, but I do not know yet when it will be ready for posting, hopefully in a few days.

Third, thank you all for your support, I do not know what I would do without you!

Anyway, as some of you have already suspected, the romance is not progressing as smoothly as Christine might have hoped, complication number two is rearing its ugly head, and yes, I do feel bad for making you wait a few days till you can learn more about Erik's plans or Christine's reaction, but unfortunately my job once again will occupy most of my time.

Chapter 9 – Flight

Slightly over three weeks had passed since Erik had regained consciousness. Physically he was making good progress. His wound had pretty much healed, he did not have to wear his arm in the sling anymore, he was back to eating normal food and he was out of bed again. He was strong enough to walk around the house, but he still tired easily.

Erik's emotional well-being was a different problem, though. He had to admit that he could not have asked for a more devoted and loving nurse than Christine. She was always there when he needed something, at first she had fed him, when he had still been too weak to hold a spoon, then she had read to him, sung him to sleep, later on, when he had made his first uneasy steps again, it had been her shoulder to support him and her arm wrapped around his waist to guide him. If there had not been their back story of betrayal, of her love for the handsome young Vicomte, he would have almost believed in the sincerity of her feelings. But despite her open show of affection he could not convince himself that she had really chosen him and preferred him to that de Chagny boy. Even though the Vicomte was never mentioned in his presence Erik had overheard a few words between the three ladies and knew that the latter was still counting on marrying Christine. To Erik that was proof enough that the Vicomte was still certain of her love. Surely, he would not endure the problems this unsuitable marriage to a performer would cause him in society, if the woman in question did not really want him? No, Erik understood perfectly. Christine loved the Vicomte, but pitied him, her poor, sick Angel.

That was not to say, though, that he did not enjoy her attention. Quite the contrary. Erik basked in Christine's affection, he drank in every word of love, relished every caress, every physical contact, every smile, every loving gaze of her wondrous brown eyes. He realized that he was getting used to being showered with love by her. He would miss that once she was gone. This time losing her would be even harder, since he had now had a taste of heaven, he now knew how it felt to have a loving companion at his side. His solitude would be even greater now. Every day passed under her loving administrations made it harder to imagine life without her again. He would have to let go of her pretty soon or he would not be able to do it anymore. He would have to get out of her life once and for all so that she could go back to her fiancé and marry that young boy. But where would he go? He was not yet quite strong enough to live on his own. He could not yet go back to his lair. Suddenly an idea struck him. There was one place he could go to – now there was such a place again.

Xxx

Mme. Giry had a light sleep. When she woke around two in the morning, she was certain she had heard a sound, like footsteps in the hallway, that had caused her to wake up. She silently put on her robe, opened her door and carefully looked out. She gasped. There was a shadow standing in front of the door to Christine's bedroom. Thoughts of a break-in, of robbers looking for valuables, of the Vicomte sending his men to abduct an unwilling Christine, and similar scenarios chased each other in her mind, when her eyes finally adjusted to the darkness and she recognized Erik. To her surprise he was fully clothed and wearing the mask that Meg had brought back with her the night of the fire.

"Erik, what are you doing out in the hallway at this time of the night?" she whispered. There was no point in waking Christine and Meg as well. Erik seemed embarrassed and at a loss of words. He cursed inwardly. He had not expected anybody to hear him. He was so out of practice! Before his illness nobody would have heard him sneak around at night! Mme. Giry was aware of his unease. Had he tried to enter Christine's bedroom? If so, why? She was absolutely certain he had not been planning anything – indecent. He had always treated Christine with utmost respect and she knew that no matter how much he loved Christine, he would not touch her unless they were properly married. But Erik definitely behaved as if he had been caught doing something that was not quite right. She now realized that he was holding something in his hand, something small and white – a letter?

"Erik, you'd better go back to bed now," she admonished him. "You can give that to Christine tomorrow. There is no point in waking her right now." Erik suddenly seemed to decide on what to do. "Antoinette, please, I need your help. You will let me leave your home now. And you will give this letter to Christine tomorrow. It will explain everything." Mme. Giry was confused. What was going on here? Why did he want to leave? Did it have something to do with Christine? If so, she could not imagine what. To her the two had seemed like they were perfectly happy together. And where was he planning to go anyway? Did he not remember what living in the streets for ten days had done to him recently?

"Erik, are you out of your mind?" she hissed at him. "What do you think you are doing? Why do you want to leave?" Only after having spoken those words, did she remember that the two girls were sleeping and that it would not help to wake them as well. "Come down to the parlor with me," she told Erik more calmly. "We have to talk, but I do not want to wake Meg and Christine." Erik nodded and followed her downstairs.

Once they were both seated in the parlor, Mme. Giry faced Erik. "So, now you can tell me what this is all about. Start at the beginning. At this time of the night I am not good at solving riddles or making logical conclusions," she began.

Erik looked at her, he was obviously ill at ease and not quite sure how to start. "It's Christine," he finally blurted out. "She is treating me so well, she is so kind to me, she caresses me and smiles at me... and I am so getting used to her display of affection." Mme. Giry shook her head. Surely that was not a problem? She smiled at him. "Erik, I know that her feelings for you have changed and that you enjoy her attention. I have seen the two of you together over the past few weeks, and things are going well between you and Christine. It would be rather strange if you felt differently about her. Unless, of course, you do not love her anymore."

He looked at her in shock. "You know that that will never happen. She was my first love and she will be my last one. There will never be anybody else in my heart." Mme. Giry squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Of course, I do know that Erik. So, where is the problem? You love her, she loves you, you are happy about her affection – to tell you the truth, Meg and I have been waiting for an engagement for a few days now." A tortured look crossed Erik's expressive eyes. "That is exactly the problem. I cannot propose to her again, I love her too much. In her current mood she might even accept and make us both unhappy. I know the Vicomte is waiting for her. No, don't deny it, Antoinette, I have heard you and the two young ladies talking, when you thought me in my room. I know that deep down it is him she loves. She may think right now that she loves me," he continued, "but she doesn't". God, she certainly acted as if she did, but he knew better. He had seen her on that rooftop last fall.

Mme. Giry was beginning to understand. Obviously his inferiority complex was getting the better of him again, he was considering himself somehow unworthy of Christine's love and therefore doubted the sincerity of her feelings. And he also seemed to have no trust in Christine. She had to admit that considering Christine's earlier indecision and her "betrayal" - the fact that she had unmasked him in front of the whole audience – she could understand – sort of - that he had lost his trust in her. She had hoped, though, that he would be able to forgive Christine and trust her again, because she had also seen how Christine had lavished him with attention and proofs of her love, how she had never tired during his long convalescence and always been there for him. If that had not convinced him of Christine's true feelings for him, what would?

"Erik, I think I understand your problem now," her voice was very composed and she tried to put a lot of weight into every single word. "I can see why you feel like you have to doubt Christine's feelings for you. With all your back story this is to be expected. But you have to believe me, she really does love you, only you. You should have seen her, when that smug Vicomte told us his people had shot you and that you were as good as dead. She was livid at him – and worried sick at the same time. She was afraid that she had discovered her true feelings too late, that she would not be able to tell you anymore how much she loves you." Erik interrupted her. "That is exactly the problem. She felt guilty for what had happened to me. She felt responsible. After all, her young man would not have had his people shoot at me, had it not been for her. Because he feared I might get between them again and he wanted her to himself. Even though I had promised to leave them alone... Anyway, she felt guilty and she pitied me. She saw me as the victim of her boy's jealousy. Yes, she may also have been angry with him – I do seem to remember that she hates violence – so in her anger she probably decided that she would turn to me now. Maybe she has even convinced herself that it is me she loves. But I know that all she can ever feel for somebody like me is pity." Mme. Giry was at a loss what to say. She had the feeling that nothing would convince him. That this doubt was deeply rooted in his mind and that he was determined to leave.

"Erik, why don't you give the two of you some time?" she suggested. "Christine does deserve a second chance with you. I know, if you leave her now she will be devastated. She is waiting for your proposal." She saw the pained look on his face and sighed. "I understand that with your doubt and your lack of trust in her you do not feel like asking her again to marry you. But why do you want to leave? Why do you not wait and see if your lost trust in her cannot be reestablished?" God, what would Christine say, when she woke up tomorrow morning and Erik was gone? The girl would be heart-broken, and worried about him, to boot. Though he was much better, he was not fully recovered yet. Who knew how he would be doing on his own under these circumstances? She needed to make him stay, but how? She sighed. She did not know for which of the two she was more sorry right now – for the girl who had lost her beloved's trust or for the man who was plagued with doubts regarding his woman's love. The two were so obviously very deeply in love with each other, and yet right now it seemed as if their relationship was doomed.

Erik shook his head. Desperation was creeping into his voice. "I cannot, Antoinette," he stammered. "If I stay any longer I will never be able to release her. It may already be too late. I am getting so used to having her around, of her to surround me with this semblance of affection. It tortures me to think she will realize soon that she is in error about her feelings and that she wants to return to her boy. I have to go while I am still able to bear losing her and her affection. Before it will become impossible for me to be without her after the heavenly dream I have been living for the past few weeks." He was pleading with her now, tears welling in his expressive, blue eyes. "Please, Antoinette. If I don't go now I will never find the strength to leave, but I owe it to Christine to set her free. If I stayed I would lose all self-respect."

Mme. Giry sighed in frustration. He was not going to listen to her. She tried a different approach. "Erik, you know that I cannot let you go. You are much stronger now, but you still need some rest. Where would you go? Back to the Opera and your lair? You must consider the possibility that it is still guarded, that the Vicomte has laid a trap for you there. It may also be uninhabitable. We do not know how badly the fire and the mob have damaged it. You are probably also aware of the fact that you cannot go to an inn or hotel either. You would be recognized immediately. As to going back to live in the streets... it may be warmer outside now, but you are still coughing a bit, your lungs have not quite healed. You would kill yourself."

Erik looked her in the eyes. "Do not worry about that, Antoinette," he said. "I have considered every option. I do have a place I can go to. I will even be able to rest there. I will be fine." As if he could be fine without Christine, he thought glumly.

Mme. Giry surrendered. He was not going to stay. Unless he got some irrefutable proof that Christine's heart truly belonged to him, he would not be able to trust her again. Since that was the way things were, it was probably really for the best if he left. Maybe a short period of separation would help him realize what a fool he was. If he saw how Christine remained faithful to him even if he was gone, that might tell him something about her true feelings. Christine would suffer, though, it would hurt her to know that Erik did not trust her anymore. But unlike Erik, at least Christine knew that she was loved. One last thought crossed her mind. "Erik, what did you tell Christine in that letter you want to leave for her? Be gentle with her, it will hit her hard to learn that you left because you do not believe in her love. She will be heartbroken in the morning," she said.

"Antoinette, you know that I could never hurt Christine. I told her that I love her with all my heart and that therefore I am doing what is best for her, allowing her to live the happy life she has always wanted with her Vicomte." Mme. Giry thought that he might well never hurt Christine intentionally, but the content of this letter would break her heart nevertheless. At least he said he had mentioned that he loved Christine. That would have to make do for the moment. Erik hesitated. "And give her this as well," he said, removing the ring from his neck. "It was her boy's engagement gift to her. I took it from her by force at the masquerade, I told her that her chains were still mine. They are not anymore. I am releasing her. I am returning her to her rightful fiancé." Mme. Giry promised to give Christine that message. She knew Christine would love to have that ring back – not for the reasons Erik assumed, though. For Christine that ring had long ceased having any connection to her first engagement. It had turned into the symbol of her second engagement, the only one she considered valid now. The one engagement for which she had actually worn the ring on her finger as is fitting for an engagement ring.

"Erik, please promise me to stay in touch," she asked of him. "Christine will want to know that you are doing fine. I am still not convinced that you have to go, I do know that Christine's love for you is strong and deep and will overcome any adversity. I do hope that sooner or later you will learn to accept that fact, even though right now you cannot. I will pray for the two of you. You belong together, and," she smiled at him, "I am still thinking that sooner or later I will be able to attend your wedding." Erik just looked down. He obviously had no such hopes.

"Since you are determined to go, you might as well leave while it is still dark," she continued. "It will be safer for you." Erik nodded and rose. "Take care of Christine for me, Antoinette," he whispered, fighting back tears. "Tell her, I want her to be happy. That is all that matters to me, because I love her." Mme. Giry thought that he was right now doing his best to make Christine unhappy, and himself as well, but she smiled at him nevertheless. "She knows that, Erik. And it makes her very happy." He made his way to the front door and she let him out. She sighed. This was a complicated case. But she knew beyond any doubt that both, Erik and Christine, were very much in love with each other, and she was still convinced, that no matter what, love would find its way. Somehow, some day, these two would find happiness together. She only hoped for both their sakes it would be sooner rather than later.


	10. Nightly Visit

I am back!

Okay, first things first: I still don't own anything or anybody, no matter if they appear in the play/movie or only in Leroux's book.

You were waiting about Christine's reaction? Well, we'll get to it, soon. Let's see first what Erik is doing - or have you figured it out? I thought I had been quite obvious about where he would be going.

I *hope* that I will be able to get another chapter out over the weekend, but I don't promise anything! So, on to our stupid, insecure Erik...

Chapter 10 – Nightly Visit

Mme. Giry was not the only person in Paris to wake from an unusual sound in the middle of that particular night, though to tell the truth, it was almost early morning, when Nadir Khan was faced with a similar situation. He sat up in bed, immediately fully awake. He was absolutely positive that he had heard something, though he was not quite sure what. He listened carefully, and a minute or two later, he heard it again. Now he was certain that something had impacted with his window and caused that peculiar noise. Something soft, like maybe a handful of sand or very fine gravel. He got out of bed and approached the window, only to see another handful of sand strike the window pane and run down the glass thus causing the sound he had heard before.

He was annoyed. Obviously somebody was deliberately hitting his window, probably to disturb his well-deserved rest. While he could think of a few people who might play such a prank on him, the majority of these were little street urchins and most likely sound asleep at that hour of the night. He opened the window, careful to avoid being hit by the next volley. When all remained silent outside, he dared look out. The street was deserted, he could see nobody. No, wait, somebody was standing in the doorway of a house on the other side of the street, a shadow, barely visible, blending in perfectly with his surroundings. And suddenly Nadir gasped. The shadow had made a tiny movement, and for the fracture of a moment, the light of the nearest street lantern had reflected off something white – something white on that shadow, in the place were normal people had their face.

"By Allah," he murmured, a wide grin spreading over his dark features. "It seems that boy is alive after all!" He leaned out of the window to get the shadow's attention, and gesticulated wildly, hoping it would be interpreted as "Come, I'll meet you at the door!" The shadow-person seemed to understand the message, for he unobtrusively crossed the street and approached the entrance of the house where Nadir lived.

Nadir threw on his robe and quickly went down to let his visitor in. He motioned him to follow him to his apartment, and only once he had locked the door behind them, did he look at his guest. He smiled. "Erik, it's good to see you! Rumor has you dead, you know, killed by the Vicomte de Chagny's men, but I should have known that you would be able to make a last-minute escape somehow!" He stopped and stared at his friend. Only now did he notice that Erik had lost quite a bit of weight, that he looked tired, too, as if he had overexerted himself. And while he was wearing his customary white mask, his black wig was missing. Now he even coughed!

"What's the matter with you, Erik? You have been ill, haven't you? From that cough I would guess pneumonia," he asked, alarmed. Erik nodded. "Yes, that, and a broken heart and a bullet to my shoulder,… but I am recovering now." Except for the broken heart, he thought. That will never heal. Oh Christine, why did you have to choose that boy?

"Sit down, Erik," the elderly Persian, former daroga of Mazenderan, told his visitor. "I will make you some tea, a herbal tea which will help you with your coughing, you will drink that and then you go to bed. You know where the guest room is. You should not be up in the middle of the night, you are obviously not quite fully recovered yet. No, I won't ask any questions. Not now, anyway. You need to rest first. I won't be the reason why you are suffering a relapse. Once you have slept a few hours you can tell me everything. Of course I have heard a few things, and there has been some coverage of the fire at the Opera Populaire in the newspapers, so I have a vague idea of what might have happened here in my absence, but I guess I am missing a lot of details that only you will be able to provide."

Erik followed the daroga to his sitting room, where he fell pretty unceremoniously into the nearest chair. God, he was tired! It had taken him over an hour to walk all the way from Mme. Giry's house in the suburb to the home of his old friend Nadir, which was situated closer to the center of the city. He definitely was not used to that kind of physical exertion anymore. And how he already missed Christine! If she were here now, she would scold him for overexerting himself like that, calling him egotistical and reproaching him that he had not been thinking of what it would do to her to see him getting sick again, to see him risk his life or at least his health like that. At the same time she would hold his hand, look him in the eyes, caress his deformed cheek and call him her "love" or her "darling".

Erik closed his eyes and tried to remember Christine's eyes looking at him lovingly, the feel of her gentle fingers on his marred face – in Erik's opinion a sensation to die for – the tender sound her lovely voice took on when she called him "my love", and that pretty shade of pink her cheeks would turn every time he looked her straight in the eyes, his own eyes betraying all his love, passion and desire for her. Oh Christine! If only he could believe that her affection was sincere.

Erik was so lost in his memories of Christine's caresses that he did not hear Nadir coming back a few minutes later, balancing a steaming mug of tea on a tray. Only when his friend shoved the mug right in his hands did Erik notice the latter's presence. "Erik, drink this, and then off with you to bed, I see that you are exhausted. And don't even think about getting up before noon tomorrow. You need your rest," he admonished, and Erik wondered how strange it was that everybody he knew suddenly became so overprotective of him, although, as tired and exhausted as he was, he relished the coddling.

Erik took a sip of the tea, it tasted a little bitter, but he knew that the medicinal herbs would help his lungs recover. Nadir watched him drink. "That's right, Erik, drink the whole mug. You should drink at least three, better five such mugs every day. And once you are a bit stronger, you might want to consider spending a few weeks in the south – the Provence would do you a lot of good, or maybe Italy. You seem to have had it pretty bad this time, I'd therefore recommend some time in a mild climate for a full recovery." Erik barely listened but obediently drank the whole mug, while Nadir went to his own room to fetch one of his night shirts for Erik. Once Erik had finished his tea, he retired to Nadir's guest room, where he was sound asleep within a few minutes.

Xxx

Nadir Khan did not find sleep again that night. He kept thinking about what Erik had said, that in addition to pneumonia he had suffered from a bullet wound – and a broken heart. The bullet wound was easily explained, Nadir thought. It fit with what he had heard, namely that servants of the young Vicomte Raoul de Chagny had heroically confronted the fugitive Phantom of the Opera and had killed or at least mortally wounded the criminal who had plagued the management of the world-renowned Opera Populaire for years. Apparently, the Vicomte's men's shooting skills were not as good as they – or their employer – thought. Erik's injury had obviously not been quite that deadly.

Nadir smiled. He was not sure what he had felt when he had learned those news a few weeks ago – had he really believed them, or had he hoped against hope his friend would somehow still be alive? He definitely had been nervous, fearing the worst and therefore he was glad now, that Erik was still in one piece. His young friend had obviously suffered a lot recently, but he had survived, and from what Nadir could tell, Erik would make a full recovery.

Nadir thought about Erik's other comment then, his broken heart, and he tried to figure out what might have happened in that regard. The fire at the Opera probably had something to do with it, and maybe the shooting, which had resulted in Erik's bullet wound, but that had occurred considerably later than the fire at the Paris Opera. The local newspapers in Nice, where Nadir had been at that time, had of course reported on the burning theater, but they had covered that event only about a week after the incident had actually happened. They had probably also exaggerated things a bit, and it had been quite obvious that about half the article was a paraphrase of another report printed previously in another gazette. For those reasons he was certain that his knowledge of the event was sketchy at best.

Everybody in Nice had talked about the fire for days, though everybody had agreed that the news had been very confusing. There had been mention of a murdered singer, a new opera which seemed to defy tonality, a falling chandelier, a young soprano abducted by a deformed monster, trapdoors, gendarmes, a wealthy patron concerned about said soprano's virtue when left alone with the aforementioned monster, who in addition to being the ugliest thing alive also happened to be a deranged madman and the composer of that strange opera. Nadir had smiled inwardly when he overheard other guests at the hotel doubt the veracity of these reports. He had figured out a lot more of what had happened than most others. After all, he personally knew one of the protagonists of the story, and he knew of the other; for the young soprano in question had been the main topic of every conversation he had had with the "deformed madman" from the moment he had come to Paris. Christine Daaé – Erik's protégé, his love.

Nadir thought back on his relationship with Erik. Erik had been very young when they had first met back home in his native country, he had been barely more than a boy, probably not quite twenty yet. While the majority of the population in Mazanderan considered Erik to be something like Death's Angel, Nadir alone knew of the kind and compassionate heart inside the troubled and abused young man, who had been treated with violence almost from birth on and therefore did not have any moral qualms with regards to using it. But when Erik was around Nadir's sick little boy, his beloved Reza, Erik was a different person. Maybe he found a kindred spirit in Reza – after all, Reza was different from other children, like Erik had been, and like Erik he had no friends. The two had become quite close, and when Reza's illness had reached its final stage and Reza was consumed with pain, Erik had done what Nadir himself had not had the strength to do, he had given his friend peace. It was therefore only natural that later the grateful father had saved the life of the man who had spared his only child weeks, maybe months of the most painful suffering. Nadir had been aware of the consequences this act of insubordination would cause him, but he had felt that because of what Erik had done for Reza he owed it to him to keep him alive.

Nadir had gladly endured his punishment, knowing that his son's benefactor was safe. Once he had finally been able to leave Persia he had followed Erik to Paris. It had taken him a while to find his young friend in the big city, but since he liked music as well, they had met at the Opera one day. They had renewed their relationship and Nadir was proud to have the reclusive young man's trust. Around the same time Erik had started to befriend a young orphaned chorus girl, Christine Daaé. Erik had been afraid, though, of scaring the child with his appearance, so he only spoke to her from behind walls and through mirrors, pretending to be the Angel of Music sent to her by her father's spirit. Erik had talked about his little friend quite often, mentioning her loneliness, her love for her dead father, her passion for music, her exquisite voice and her deep devotion to her Angel. Nadir had had the impression that this new protégé of Erik's had somehow filled the void in Erik's heart that the death of his son Reza had caused. He had been happy for Erik and considered the girl lucky to have such a caring tutor.

Through Erik Nadir had learned quite a lot about Christine over the years, and Erik had pointed her out to him among the ballet rats. She had not looked like much as a child, but her movements had always been graceful. And then the lanky girl had started to grow into a pretty young woman… Nadir pondered. When exactly had it been that he had started to consider the fact that despite his deformity and the insecurities it caused him, Erik was a man - and that Christine was not a child anymore. A year ago, a year and a half? It must have been around Christine's fifteenth birthday or shortly thereafter, when he had realized that Erik's feelings for her were changing. When he had brought up the topic with Erik, the latter had blushed and shouted at him angrily that the girl was way too young for such thoughts. But his eyes had held such passion and desire that Nadir had known, that the inevitable had happened: Erik had finally lost his heart. Erik had obviously been nervous about the situation – because of his face, he had feared rejection and had decided not to rush things, to wait for her to grow a bit older and to give himself time to adjust to the new situation, for the next step for Erik would now be to tell her the truth about himself.

Until Nadir had left for his vacation, nothing had changed between Erik and Christine that he knew of, but Nadir had the bad feeling that things had reached a climax during his absence, that Erik's remarks about his broken heart had a lot to do with the young dancer, who had also become quite an accomplished diva in the meantime. Apparently the fate of Erik's romance had been decided while he himself had been away, and he had not been there for him when Erik probably would have needed a friend most. He was not quite sure what had happened, but the girl's name had been linked to that of the young Vicomte Raoul de Chagny, one of the patrons of the Opera Populaire. Nadir was surprised about that, from what he had been told about her, he would not have expected her to accept the patron's advances, but who could understand a woman's heart? Maybe she loved the Vicomte? Had she become the aristocrat's mistress or was Erik fearing she was about to fall prey to the young nobleman? Nadir remembered that Erik supposedly had abducted her right from the stage during a performance. Had he tried to protect her from the Vicomte, or tried to win her back to himself? So many questions. The only thing that seemed certain was that she obviously had rejected Erik and left him no hope that she might reconsider. Or had the Vicomte had his way with her and Erik could not get over the fact that she was tainted, used goods? Either way, it seemed to Nadir as if the shooting of Erik had had more to do with the Vicomte's jealousy than with his willingness to free the Opera's management from a certain "O.G".

Poor Erik! Nadir knew how much that particular girl meant to his friend. He was also quite certain that Erik had never had a girlfriend before. It definitely was high-time for him to find a wife, after all, he was in his mid-thirties by now. A man his age definitely needed a woman in Nadir's opinion. But even if Erik could get over Christine, his chances at love were slim. Nadir cursed the superficiality of women that would judge his friend by his disfigured face and not look at the lonely man behind it: The sensible artist and musician, the generous soul, ready to shower his love with gifts, the intelligent, resourceful, educated man.

His thoughts returned to the girl. Christine probably knew Erik better than anybody else had ever known him. Nadir was positive that for years, she and Erik had discussed pretty much everything that had happened in her life. She must know Erik's opinion on any given subject, she must have sensed his caring and understanding. And they both shared a passion for music. If ever there had been a chance for a woman to look beyond Erik's mask, it would have to be her. Apparently, though, not even she had been able to get over his deformity. Would she really rather be the mistress of a pretty rich boy (for that Vicomte would not marry her, Nadir thought, or would he?) than the respectable, beloved wife of a man who worshiped the ground she walked on?

Nadir suddenly returned to reality when he heard somebody rummaging in the kitchen. He realized that dawn had given way to full daylight. It was time for breakfast. His manservant Darius was obviously busy making coffee for the two of them. Nadir hurried to the kitchen, he had to make sure Erik would not be disturbed by the household noise.

"Good morning, Darius," Nadir greeted his loyal servant. "I have surprising news to tell you. But please, can you try to work as silently as possible?" Darius looked at his master questioningly. Never before had the latter made such a request. "Of course," he hastily promised, trying to reduce the noise level without slowing down too much. "But why?" Nadir dropped the news at him. "Because Monsieur Erik is here."

Darius stared at his master open-mouthed. "Monsieur Erik?" he whispered, "but isn't he…?" Nadir grinned. "No, he isn't. Allah has obviously held his hand over him and protected him. He is fine. That is, he will be fine," he corrected himself. "He has been very ill, but is almost recovered. He does need rest, though, so make sure he is not disturbed. And maybe you could plan to prepare some of his favorite dishes, he has always been on the skinny side, but right now he is downright thin. Let's see if we can put some meat back on his bones!" Master and servant looked at each other in understanding. They might not be able to help Erik about his broken heart, Nadir thought, but they would do their best to help him recover and to keep him out of further trouble.


	11. Loss

New chapter!

(Just to make sure everybody knows: I do not own anything or anybody)

It just occurred to me, that maybe you have wondered about the timeline in my last chapter. Since this story is movie-based, let's assume things are like this:

We are in 1871 (early April right now, since Nadir is back); Christine is 17, Erik in his mid-thirties  
>they have known each other for roughly 10 years (since she was orphaned at 7), Erik must have been around 25 at that time<br>when E&C first met, both Erik and Mme. Giry had been back to the Opera for a while (Giry said so in chapter 2)  
>Giry had returned to the Opera after her husband's death; since she had not gone back to dancing (see ch. 2), Meg probably still was very young, maybe 1-2 at that time, hence this happened about 4-5 years before Christine arrived at the Opera. Erik would have been around 20 at that time, if we assume that Meg and Christine are roughly the same age. He was in Persia (and presumably Italy) during Mme. Giry's absence. Let's say it took her 4-5 years to date M. Giry, get married, get pregnant, have Meg until her husband's death, then Erik was away for about that much time, when he was maybe between 1516 to 20/21. Of course Nadir was a widower with child at that time and is therefore probably at least 15 years older than Erik, hence approximately 50-55 in this story. That's why I had him refer to Erik as "that boy".

Anything else? Right, reviews. I love you all for your support, please continue to give me feedback! And don't give up on me or this story if the next chapter takes a while. This story will be finished! And I already have an idea for another one... in the meantime, check out my two one-shots, if you haven't done so already!

So, how many of you had guessed that Erik would go to Nadir? Yeah, good thing Erik does have somebody else he can rely on, and Nadir will be very important two or three chapters down the road, you will see! I needed him for the last chapter and for that upcoming plot twist, but since he had not been in the movie and the beginning of the story would have made no sense if Nadir had been there, I made him go on a long vacation - gets him out of the way in the beginning and explains why he was not seen in the movie.

But let's go back to the story... Christine is next! 

Chapter 11 – Loss

The sun was shining brightly when Christine woke up the next morning. She jumped out of bed, opened the window and smiled at the beautiful weather outside. Mme. Giry's little garden was in full bloom, birds were singing in the huge apple tree, it was clear to Christine that spring had finally come. Maybe she would be able to convince Erik to go out in the garden with her for a while later. It was still too cold to sit outside, but the fresh air and sunshine would certainly do him a lot of good. It would help him with his coughing and bring some color to his cheeks.

She dressed quickly and went to look for her Angel. Now that he was almost fully recovered he had developed the habit of rising early, but usually stayed in his room until the ladies woke up as well. Therefore Christine crossed the hallway and knocked on Erik's door, fully expecting to find him awake and happy to see her. To her surprise, though, he did not ask her to come in. Maybe he had overheard her knocking somehow? Unlikely as that was – for his hearing was excellent – she knocked again. Once again, there was no answer. Christine grew nervous. "Erik," she called softly, "are you all right? Please answer me! Can I come in?"

When everything remained silent inside, she began to worry. Had something happened to Erik? Had he suffered a relapse? Was he again not feeling well? Christine decided to check on him. She opened the door and entered the room – to find it empty, the bed untouched. She panicked. Where was Erik? Had he not slept at all? He would not have left, or would he? What was going on here? She ran downstairs, calling for Mme. Giry.

She found the latter in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. When Christine entered, Mme. Giry turned around and faced the upset girl. She sighed. She had feared this particular confrontation and one look at Christine's chalk-white face told her that her young protégé would not take the news she had to give her well. Anger rose in her at that stupid man that did not recognize love when it was staring him right in the face. How could he do that to Christine? "Mme. Giry," Christine stammered desperately, "Erik is not in his room, his bed is untouched. Where is he? What has happened?" Tears started to well in her eyes. Mme. Giry's heart went out to her. That idiot, she thought. How can he make her suffer like that?

"Come, sit down," she told Christine quietly. "It's good that Meg is not up yet, for I have a few things to tell you. First," she continued, seeing the worry and the barely-contained tears in Christine's eyes, "I do not think you have to worry about Erik. He said he would be fine." Christine sobbed. "Is he really gone? But why? Did he tell you something?"

Mme. Giry handed her a folded piece of paper, which was sealed barely adequately with the help of candle-wax. "He told me to give you this," she explained to Christine. "Read this first, then I can tell you a little bit more and maybe answer some of your questions. And I have something else to give to you. But read your letter first." Christine grasped the piece of paper – a letter from Erik. For her. As worried as she was – for by now there was no doubt anymore that he had left the house – the thought that he had written her a letter was somewhat endearing. She quickly broke the poor wax seal, unfolded the letter and began to read the message. She smiled when she recognized his characteristic handwriting, but once she had got past the first line she winced in almost physical pain. She stared at the message in shock. The letters swam in front of her eyes and it took her a few minutes to understand the meaning of the short message.

"_My dear Christine, my one and only love,_

_thank you for having given me a taste of heaven over the past few weeks. Your tender caresses and your kind, loving words have made me the happiest man in this world. I cannot tell you how much I wish I could stay with you and enjoy that kind of ecstasy for the rest of my life. But that would be egotistical. If I stayed I would deny you your happiness, the life in the sunshine that you deserve. I would keep you away from your true love._

_I know that your Vicomte is still waiting for you. Christine, I love you too much to chain your destiny to mine. Do not lie to me. I know which of us your heart has chosen. If you stayed with me it would be out of pity, or maybe out of guilt, because you feel responsible for what has happened to me. Please know, that I will be fine, you do not have to feel guilty on my behalf, nor do you have to worry about me. But I have to leave, for I do not want your pity. It is still time for you to go back to the man you truly love. Do not try to find me. I am going out of your life forever. But know that my heart will always belong to you, and you alone. There will never be another woman for me._

_Promise me that you will forget me and be happy with your young man._

_Forever and always  
><em>_Your Angel from Hell, E."_

Once she had finished reading, Christine broke down sobbing. "My poor, poor Erik! Oh, Mme. Giry, how could he do that to me – and to himself? Oh my God, I can understand that he doubts my love, I deserve this, for the way I have treated him, I have hurt him too badly, I should not be surprised that he does not believe my feelings for him are genuine, but doesn't he know that I am worried sick about him? How can he leave me like that? He is not even fully recovered yet. Where is he going? He still needs to heal and get stronger!"

Mme. Giry took the sobbing girl in her arms and tried to comfort her. That was so typical of Christine, she thought. Erik had hurt her deeply with his lack of trust and all she could think of was how much he suffered and if he would be well, considering his convalescent status. After a while, Christine calmed down somewhat. "Where is he?" She looked up at her surrogate mother. "Did he tell you, do you know, where my poor Angel has gone?" Mme. Giry shook her head. "No, he did not tell me, but he said that he does have a place he can go to, where he will be safe and able to rest until he will be strong and healthy again. He said we need not worry about him." She patted Christine's shoulder. "I asked him to stay in touch, since you would want proof that he really is fine, but he did not reply to my request. Therefore he may or may not give me news within the next days. We will have to wait and see."

Christine's eyes looked into the far distance. "My poor Erik, I had no idea he believed I still love Raoul. That thought must have hurt him so much! I thought he understood that my feelings for him have changed. But of course I should have known how low his self-esteem is. It would probably have been difficult for him to accept my love, even if I had never met Raoul again. But I thought all was well, he seemed so happy about me showing him my love so openly, how could I have guessed? All I want is to make Erik happy and I keep hurting him!" Mme. Giry smiled at her. "He _was_ happy about your attention, even though he was not convinced of the sincerity of your feelings. He does love you."

"I know," Christine whispered, her eyes bright with joy, clasping the letter closely to her chest. "Every word in this letter is proof of his love. He believes that I would rather be with Raoul than with him and he therefore sets me free. His love is so selfless, he only ever thinks of me. Oh my God, I only now understand how much I hurt him when I first turned to Raoul! And he has forgiven me everything, he still loves me so deeply, even though he believes me to be one of these superficial women who only go for looks. I guess it serves me well," she sighed. "I have brought this upon myself. I have nobody to blame but myself if he cannot believe in my love anymore. I am just sorry that Erik has to suffer so much once again. He has been through so much already, I had hoped I could make it all up to him for the horrors of his childhood, and now I hurt him again!" She started to sob again.

Mme. Giry comfortingly squeezed Christine's hand. She could not help but wonder about these two star-crossed lovers. Both, Christine and Erik, were deeply in love with each other, neither of them would ever hurt the other intentionally, yet all they ever did was cause each other – and themselves – pain. "He will see the truth one day, Christine," Mme. Giry tried to console the young woman. "And he will believe in you again. With love as strong as the one the two of you share, there simply must be a way." Christine nodded, only half convinced. She thought back to the past few weeks, how she had been there for Erik and helped him in any way possible with his recovery. If that had not convinced him of her love, what else could she say or do to make him believe her? She once again looked at her letter. Yes, the content had hurt her, but Erik's love spoke to her from every word he had written. Despite the sad message it contained, it was still a love letter. The first one she had ever received.

Mme. Giry took the ring out of her pocket. "Erik asked me to give you this as well," she told Christine, who was staring at the ring. "What for? Now that he has left me…," Christine's voice faltered. Mme. Giry placed the ring in Christine's hand. "He said because your chains are not his anymore, but I think he wanted you to have the ring. I had the feeling that he thought the ring might mean something to you. I am sure he was right about that," she grinned mischievously, "but I think he is completely mistaken on why exactly you cherish this ring."

Christine nodded sadly. How much she had wanted to get that ring back, but not that way. Still, Erik had been wearing it on his heart for a few weeks, and she had put it on her finger during her oh so short-lived engagement to him. That ring had been on her finger when she had kissed Erik for the first – and so far only - time. So no matter what his reasons had been for giving the ring to her again, it would always be dear to her heart and she would always cherish it. "You are right. I am glad I have it back, though I do not have the right to wear it on my finger anymore until I have won back my Angel's trust." Christine thought that maybe the ring could lie on her heart for a while now for a change.

Mme. Giry was relieved. Christine had just talked about winning back Erik's trust. The girl was stronger than she had expected. Christine's love really was deep. Despite the hurt this stupid guy had caused her, the poor girl still felt more sorry for Erik than for herself. Of course Mme. Giry had known that Christine was not going to give up on Erik, that she would be willing to fight for their happiness.

"I am sure that Erik will come to understand your true feelings one day and then his trust will return. I am sorry, that I could not convince him of the sincerity of your love, God knows, I certainly tried, but he wouldn't listen. He said he had to leave at once or he would get too used to your signs of affection and therefore would not have the strength anymore to go and set you free. He felt he owes it to you to let you go. But I know that your love is strong enough to deal with the current situation. And he simply must come to his senses sooner or later. I hoped that it would teach him something if he saw that you don't return to Raoul even if you have the chance."

"I most definitely will not go back to Raoul. If I cannot have Erik, I will remain unmarried." Christine was adamant about that. "But maybe there is still a way for me to win Erik back. After all, he still loves me. Despite everything I have done to him, he still loves me. And knowing that makes me happy, even though he has left me. I will wait a few days. As you said, he may or may not contact you. If he does, I will at least know where he is and then consider what I can do to convince him of my love. If he does not, then I will have to think of ways how to find out where he is." A thought struck her mind. "He did not take any clothes, did he?" Mme. Giry shook her head. "No, he was wearing his own trousers and that shirt, which despite all my efforts of washing it still has a pinkish tinge to it from being soaked with his blood when he came to us that night. And of course he took the mask that Meg had brought with her after the fire. He did not take anything else with him." Christine smiled. "That's what I thought. He will therefore sooner or later have to get some of his things from his lair, some money, too. No matter where he is right now, he will probably have to go to the Opera sooner or later. That's where we will have to look for him if he does not get in touch."

Mme. Giry agreed. That was a sound plan. Why hadn't she thought of it herself? If Erik did not contact her within the next week, they would look for him. Her thoughts were interrupted by Meg. "Good morning, everybody," her daughter's cheerful voice filled the kitchen. Mme. Giry and Christine turned to greet her and Meg gasped at them. "What is going on here, the two of you look absolutely terrible. Have you been crying, Christine? Where is Erik? He will cheer you up in no time," she sputtered.

Mme. Giry gave her a stern look. "Meg, please. Leave Christine alone. Erik left tonight." Meg's eyes widened in shock. "But why? Is he crazy? He is very obviously madly in love with Christine, and for some reason I cannot even begin to understand, she loves him back. So why would he leave? And where did he go anyway?" Mme. Giry's voice was like steel. "Enough, Meg. I said, leave Christine alone."

Christine looked at her. "Mme. Giry, do not be too harsh with Meg," she pleaded. "She is right. It is hard to understand. Let me try to explain it to you, Meg," she turned to her friend. "Meg, you know that I hurt Erik very much in the past when I got engaged to Raoul. And you also know that he is so insecure, he has such a low opinion of himself, because of his poor face and because of the terrible childhood he has had, so he somehow felt that he was not good enough for me when I turned away from him because of Raoul. Of course, now it is hard for him to understand that I have realized that it is him I love after all, not Raoul. He does not believe in the sincerity of my feelings anymore, because somehow it is difficult for him to grasp that a girl who can have somebody as handsome, rich, young, dashing, popular as Raoul would want him. He thinks my feelings for him are not love, but a combination of pity and of guilt, because I feel responsible for the fact that Raoul's men shot him and almost killed him. He therefore sets me free so that I can go back to Raoul. But of course I won't do that. I will wait for Erik. Sooner or later he will have to accept that I want only him and nobody else. And if not, if he cannot get over my betrayal and trust me again, then I will remain unmarried. I will never belong to anybody other than Erik."

Meg hugged her friend. She thought by herself that Christine's love-story was incredibly romantic. After all, in some way, Erik had been an Angel for her, and then turned out to be a man. And despite everything there was no doubt that he adored Christine with all his heart. She turned to her friend. "I am so sorry, Christine. I do not quite understand what you see in Erik, it's not just his looks, but he is also so much older than you, and he can be a bit intimidating, but it is quite obvious that the two of you .. well, it is obvious to me, that you belong together. Erik seems to be blind to the obvious. Let's just hope we can convince him that he is wrong."

Christine smiled. "I won't give up hope that I can convince him of my love – for his own sake just as much as for mine. For right now he is even more unhappy than I am. I at least know that he loves me, while my poor darling doubts my love. His happiness is at stake as well, and if I give up now, I truly do not deserve Erik's love."


	12. Explanations

Okay, you know that unfortunately I don't own anything or anybody.

Another "slow" chapter with just character interaction, but the action will pick up soon and things will get a bit more dramatic in the next chapter!

Anyway, thanks to my loyal readers and reviewers! I am so proud that you like this story! btw, apparently sent out the alert for ch. 10 only after that for ch. 11 - don't ask me why!

And now let's see what Nadir thinks about Erik's chances with Christine...

Chapter 12 – Explanations

Erik had been so exhausted after his foot march through Paris that he really woke up only around lunch time the next day. Nadir smiled at him, when Erik entered his living room. His young friend looked well rested and was obviously much stronger than he had been the night before. "You are right in time for lunch, Erik," Nadir greeted him. "I told Darius that you are here and he has made your favorite Persian soup for you." Erik thanked him for his hospitality and once again wondered why everybody was suddenly going out of their way to make him happy.

The loyal manservant chose this very moment to announce that lunch was ready. He grinned with delight when he saw Erik. "Oh Monsieur Erik, it is so good to see you," he exclaimed. "I had feared… well, there were rumors..," he stuttered, slightly embarrassed, then continued "but I am glad they were not true!" Erik was touched. He really had not expected that Darius would care one way or another whether he lived or died. "Thank you, Darius," he muttered. Darius thought to himself that while Monsieur Erik obviously was in no mortal danger right now, it was still clearly noticeable that he had been very ill. His master's words that their guest was terribly thin at the moment had certainly not been an exaggeration. But Darius was confident that thanks to his cooking, his master's friend would soon regain some of his lost weight.

During their meal, Nadir and Erik only made small-talk, Nadir making sure that Erik would eat enough and reminding him to drink more of the herbal tea he had offered him the night before. After they had finished lunch, Nadir and Erik comfortably settled down in Nadir's living room. Nadir looked at his friend questioningly. "Now would be a good time to tell me what you have been doing during my absence," he informed Erik. "You know, it would be nice to know little details like for instance, why you suddenly show up on my door step in the middle of the night, and it might be of interest to learn where you have been so far – you do not expect me to believe that you have been taking care of yourself during your illness – and why you had to leave there in the middle of the night without giving me prior notice to expect you." His tone softened. "If it hurts you to talk about Mlle. Daaé, you do not have to give me all the details of your relationship with her or lack thereof, just give me a broad idea of what has happened."

Erik sat back in the cozy armchair, took a sip of the bitter herbal tea, which he had to admit had eased his coughing, and started to tell his story. He began with the arrival of the two new managers, how he had scared Carlotta enough so that she had walked out and Christine could sing the part of Elissa, how Christine had been absolutely fantastic, and how the new patron, who supposedly was a childhood friend, had taken interest in her. Nadir thought to himself that this Vicomte could not have been much of a friend if he had never bothered to check on her before, but he understood that Erik would have seen the man as a potential rival.

"Maybe I rushed things a bit," Erik continued, "for I finally revealed myself to her that same evening. Maybe I should have waited a bit longer, she is still so young, but she had been imploring "her Angel" – that is me – for quite some time to hide no longer and I feared I would lose her to this boy if I waited any longer." He told Nadir about how he had blown his chances completely when he had lashed out at her after she unmasked him, but Nadir noticed that apparently the girl had not been too shocked to continue her voice lessons with Erik. They had studied the role of the countess in "Il Muto" together.

Erik's voice sounded pained when his narrative reached the opening night of "Il Muto". That evening still was a nightmare in his memory. Pretty much everything had gone wrong: his box had been occupied by his rival, Carlotta had been playing the lead while Christine had been relegated to the background with a silent role, then Buquet had spied on him in the rafters and he had had to kill him, thus interrupting the performance again. Nadir sighed. He had made Erik promise that he would not kill again. Apparently Erik had not been able to keep that promise.

"And then," Erik winced, "I saw them. They had escaped from the chaos in the theater that followed Buquet's death, they had come up to the roof, where I was hiding, hoping that the fresh air would help me to come to terms with the fact that I had had to kill Buquet to protect myself and my secrets. They did not see me, but…" his voice broke. "They kissed! Nadir, I had to watch them kiss! My Christine allowed that boy to kiss her!" Tears were running down his exposed cheek now. Nadir put a comforting hand on Erik's shoulder. He had never been in a similar situation, but he knew his heart would have broken had he ever had to watch his wife – the only woman he had ever loved – kiss another man. He could not even begin to imagine what such an experience would do to Erik with his insecurities and low self-esteem.

Still sobbing Erik resumed his story. He explained how he had spent months composing his master piece "Don Juan Triumphant", how he had not met with Christine during that time, but had still spied on her on occasion and seen her kiss the boy repeatedly. One day he had overheard the Vicomte propose to her and she had accepted. Nadir's heart was full of compassion for his friend, he knew that Christine meant the world to Erik, and he was not surprised to hear that Erik had felt like turning mad with jealousy or dying of his broken heart, or both.

Erik mentioned the New Year's Eve Masquerade, the encounter with Christine and Raoul at the cemetery, the Vicomte's plan to kill him on stage and Christine's involvement, the performance of "Don Juan"… "She must have known it was me, and yet,… oh Nadir, she sang to me seductively, she stumbled into my arms and let me hold her and caress her… it was heaven. I forgot everything around, the gendarmes, their plan to kill me, my plan to escape with her, I just offered her my heart once again and begged for her love again, and she…" he hesitated, overwhelmed by the memories of this traumatic moment. After a few minutes he continued, in a whisper. "She ripped my mask off. In front of the whole audience. She exposed my hideous face to everybody." He shuddered.

Nadir continued to pat Erik's shoulder, trying to calm him. God, what had his friend gone through during his absence. Experiences like that would throw a self-confident person off the tracks, even more so his insecure young friend. He did not understand the girl though. Had she been toying with Erik? Why would she have sung to him seductively and let him hold her and caress her? Had she been acting it to distract him? He was not sure she was that good an actress, and he didn't think she would act well under stress – or if dealing with somebody she considered a dangerous criminal. Was it possible that Erik did mean something to her after all, maybe not as a potential love interest, but as a friend? If so, why had she unmasked him?

Erik felt ashamed about what had come next, but he knew that the chandelier incident and the fire at the Opera Populaire had been in the newspapers, so there was no point in denying the truth. He told his friend everything: how he had escaped with Christine through the trapdoor, how the chandelier had set the house on fire, how he had forced Christine to put on the wedding dress, how the Vicomte had followed them, how he had threatened to kill that boy unless Christine promised to stay with him. Nadir almost started to cry as well, so moved was he by his friend's sufferings. He understood that Erik had not been himself, that he had not been quite sane when he had done all those things, that in a way he could not be held responsible for what he had done in the throes of madness, but that he felt ashamed for it nevertheless.

"She promised to stay with me," Erik whispered. "I could barely believe it, but she did promise. She put the ring on her finger as if she really meant it, and then…" he blushed deeply at the memory. "She kissed me." Nadir thought he had misunderstood. Had Erik just said the girl had kissed him when all that had been asked of her was a promise that she would stay with him? "Erik, did I get that right, you said she kissed you?" he asked. "Surely it was the other way round, you kissed her, right?"

Erik smiled at the memory of Christine's lips on his, her tongue begging for entrance into his mouth, and he finally granting her access, allowing her to explore, meeting her tongue with his. "No," he told Nadir. "I would never have dared touching her like this. She kissed me." Nadir stared at him incredulously. Was Erik hallucinating? If not,.. Nadir was not going to voice his thought, for fear of awakening false hope in his friend. "Twice," Erik continued, entranced. "She kissed me twice."

Nadir shook his head in disbelief. What girl would kiss a raving madman that was forcing her to marry him in order to save her true love's life? Her enduring his kisses, he could imagine. But her kissing him out of her own free will without being forced to or at least ordered to? Twice? And to judge from the ecstatic look on Erik's face those kisses had been good. Nadir was not so sure anymore that Erik's case was hopeless. The Daaé-girl quite obviously did have feelings of some sort for Erik. Was he really only a teacher to her, or had she just not realized yet the true nature of her feelings for the man she called her Angel?

"And then," Nadir asked. "What happened then?" Erik sighed. "I let her go. She had given me so much with those two kisses, more happiness than I had ever hoped for, I could not force her to stay with me against her will." Nadir was not so sure anymore she would not have liked to stay after those kisses, but he could understand why she would have left. After all, Erik had basically rejected her after she had shown him her willingness to be his wife – in every sense of the word. For if she had kissed him like that, twice, out of her own free will, Nadir was sure she would not have denied Erik anything.

Erik continued his story, mentioning his escape from the mob, how he had been too heart-broken to clearly think and therefore had escaped ill-prepared for the weather conditions outside, how he had been planning to ask Mme. Giry to let him stay with her, since Nadir had been on vacation, and how he had seen that Christine had gone with the ballet mistress instead, so that he had been forced to find shelter elsewhere. Nadir could not believe it. That girl had not gone with the Vicomte? Why not? She had lost her home at the Opera and he was her fiancé and could therefore be expected to take her under his wings. Had the Vicomte rejected her after those kisses she had shared with Erik? Had this young patron of the Opera been thinking along the same lines as he, Nadir, was thinking now? Or had the girl refused to go with him – after those kisses had made her realize who she really loved? Either way he did not think Erik had reason to be heart-broken. Was there a third explanation? Propriety briefly crossed his mind but he dismissed it after a second. Surely propriety was pointless in a case of force majeure such as a burning building.

Erik briefly mentioned his days in the tool-shed, how he got ill, how his slight cold developed into a bad case of pneumonia and how he had known that he needed to go back to his lair to get supplies if he were to survive. He explained how he had been surrounded by those men that had looked like ordinary scavengers and how he had tried to escape, but while one of them had attacked him, another one had shot him. How he had made it into the Opera where he could shake off his pursuers, but had not been able to treat the wound himself. "It was the end," Erik said. "I was already weakened from the illness, I was running a fever, and then the blood loss and the pain, the bullet in my shoulder causing an inflammation." Nadir could imagine Erik's situation. It was a miracle his friend had recovered from such a severe condition. "What did you do?" he asked, his voice heavy with compassion.

Erik sighed. "At first I decided to just lie down and die. Then I remembered Christine… and I wanted to see her one last time. I hoped that maybe.." he blushed. "Maybe… I know it was the hope of desperation, but I hoped that maybe, since I was dying, she would forgive me and let me die in her arms." Nadir was listening more and more attentively. What would come next? He was fairly certain he knew how the story would continue. If he was right, then …

"She came out into the garden that night, and I called her," Erik continued. "When she saw me and realized my condition she simply helped me into the house, and she and Mme. Giry took care of my wound and nursed me back to health." Nadir grinned. He had guessed right. That girl did care for Erik. She had not handed him over to the authorities but had taken care of him.

"So, all those days later she was still staying with Mme. Giry? She had not joined the Vicomte yet?" Nadir asked curiously. In his opinion that fact alone was proof enough that at the very least Christine had doubts about her relationship with the young nobleman. But if it was not her fiancé she loved, then her heart could belong only to one other man.

Erik shook his head. "No, she was still with Antoinette and her daughter. She could not well stay with the Vicomte, since they are not married yet." Nadir thought that if the Vicomte really had the intention of marrying her, he could have rushed the wedding under the circumstances and that she could well have been living as the new Vicomtesse at the de Chagny estate at the time Erik had been shot. But she had still been with the Girys.

Nadir was fairly certain by now that all it would take for Erik to be happy with his love would be for him to take her into his arms, to kiss her the way she had kissed him and to ask her to marry him. All signs seemed to indicate that the girl loved Erik after all. He had all his suspicions confirmed when Erik told him that Christine had been with him when he finally had woken up from his fever delirium, that she had told him that she loved him, held his hand, caressed his deformed cheek, smiled at him, called him her "love" or her "darling", in short, had just acted like a loving bride around him. "Erik, that's wonderful," he smiled at his friend. "Congratulations! You really had me fooled last night when you mentioned your broken heart! That was in the past, right? When you saw her on the rooftop with the Vicomte? But now everything is fine between the two of you, I guess? Are you engaged? Have you come to me, because now that you are mostly recovered you don't consider it appropriate to stay under the same roof as your fiancée?"

Erik looked at Nadir as if the latter were insane. "You do not believe that she really loves me?" he scoffed. "Look at me, Nadir, then look at her and at the Vicomte. She felt pity for me, because I was so ill, she also may have felt guilty for what had happened to me. After all, it had been her boy's men to shoot me." In Nadir's opinion that bit of information was the last missing piece of the puzzle, confirming his suspicion that Christine loved Erik. The Vicomte obviously knew it too. He must know that he would not stand a chance of keeping her if Erik was still around. He therefore had tried to get the preferred rival out of the way.

Nadir shook his head. How could an intelligent person be as dumb as Erik seemed to be? "Erik," he tried to reason with his friend. "What makes you think that she still loves the Vicomte? Surely if she only pitied you or felt guilty, she might have nursed you, but would not have called you her love or her darling. Maybe her angel, given your back story with her, but certainly not her love. If she called you that, well, there is only one explanation for it. She means it. And since you had already confessed your love to her, she has no reason to disguise her feelings in maidenly reserve."

Erik grew angry. Why was it so hard for everybody to understand that a pretty girl like Christine could never love a freak like him, especially not when she could have a handsome boy like de Chagny? First Antoinette had tried to convince him that Christine's heart was his, now Nadir was suffering from the same delusion. "Nadir, please, do not try to provoke me. I know what I know," he yelled. "You were not there on that rooftop, you have not seen her kiss that boy and smile,.." Erik was sobbing now. Nadir understood that there was no point in arguing with Erik. That idiot had obviously run from the girl, and unless Nadir was completely mistaken, Christine was crying her eyes out at this very moment, the same way as Erik was doing. He wished he could help them, but he could not think of anything to say or do that would convince Erik.

Finally he decided that it would be best to give Erik time to think. Maybe in a few days, when he would be strong and healthy again, Erik would not feel like somebody to be pitied anymore, and since Nadir was certain the young woman would not run to the Vicomte the moment Erik left her, maybe her attitude in the whole situation would make Erik see how pointless his fears and his jealousy were. Nadir was absolutely sure now that Christine loved Erik, that was the important part, everything else would sooner or later fall into place.

"Calm down, Erik," he tried to soothe his agitated friend. "I can understand that seeing them together on that roof was a very traumatic experience for you. But I also think that you are under emotional stress right now. Just stay here and relax and wait what she'll do. But please promise me, that you will at least consider the possibility that it is you she wants, if she does not return to the Vicomte within a reasonable period." Erik nodded. He could promise that. But he knew what she would do… in two to three weeks there would be a wedding announcement in the newspapers.


	13. Trap

Sorry for the delay, one word: work! (Grrr!)

Anyway, I still don't own anything or anybody. I do not make any promises when to expect the next chapter, but I do promise the story will continue. Thank you to all my wonderful readers and reviewers and everybody who has this story among their favorites or on alert. Your support means a lot to me!

And to those of you angry at Erik for his stupidity: don't give up on him, our boy will see the light - soon!

Chapter 13 – Trap

A few days had passed and thanks to Darius' cooking and Nadir's insistence to take it easy, Erik had fully regained his strength. Neither he nor Nadir mentioned Christine anymore, but neither could forget their conversation on Erik's first day in Nadir's home. Somehow, Christine continued to occupy both their minds. While Erik missed her and longed for her, Nadir was racking his brain to find a way how to convince Erik of Christine's love for him.

Once Erik was completely healed, he was faced with a few problems in addition to his broken heart, though. His wardrobe consisted of only one shirt and one pair of trousers and Nadir's clothes did not fit him too well, since Erik was considerably taller and had longer arms than his friend. Erik was uncomfortable wearing borrowed clothes to begin with, but when trouser legs and shirt sleeves were way too short he felt definitely miserable. In addition, the longer he stayed with Nadir, the more he felt embarrassed for living on his friend's expenses. There was only one way to deal with this situation.

"Tonight I will go to the Opera and see if I can reach my lair and get some clothes and my money," Erik announced to Nadir one afternoon. Nadir gave him a stern look. "You will do no such thing," he said. "Don't you remember what happened the last time you tried to go there? What makes you think the Vicomte does not have his men guard the building and watch out for you anymore?"

Erik seethed. "You know that I cannot go on without money and without my own clothes. The only way to get both is to go back to my old home and retrieve them," he argued. "And why would that boy still have his men there?" Nadir once again wondered about how negatively Erik's love sickness obviously influenced his thinking. "For various reasons," he explained. "First, they haven't found a body – since you are still alive. Second, he has not got Christine yet, which might make him suspicious that you are not as dead as he would want you to be."

"So, if I can't go back to get my stuff, how do you suggest I buy me new clothes and pay for lodging and food without any money?" Erik asked. "It is not as if I could go out and find me a job to sustain myself with a regular income." Nadir smiled. "The solution to this problem is simple," he explained. "I am surprised you have not thought about it yourself. I will go."

Erik was furious. What was Nadir thinking? He, Erik, had a reputation of getting around without being noticed! Who was Nadir in comparison to the mighty Opera Ghost? A former daroga – probably more experienced in spying and stealth than the average citizen, but still no match for the famous Phantom! "What do you mean, you will go?" He yelled at his friend. "If it is so dangerous, since the de Chagny boy's henchmen may still be guarding the building, what makes you think you will be able to succeed when I will not?"

"Why I would stand a better chance," Nadir retorted, "is quite easily explained. For one thing, I could go in plain daylight, at a time when the Vicomte's men probably would not be as attentive as during the night. They know that you won't go out by day. Also, I do not look even remotely like you. If they are still in place, they will be looking for a tall, thin man wearing a mask or some other garment camouflaging his face, like a wide-brimmed hat, a hood or similar. I will wear no such thing. The fact that I am obviously a foreigner might also be a point in my favor. I could pretend to be just a sensation-seeking tourist visiting the ruins of the famous Opera Populaire after having heard wild stories about the fire. And," he grinned mischievously, "while I will walk by the main entrance and have a look around to see if I can detect suspicious loitering, I will not have to actually use the main entrance of the Opera. Or any other entrance of that decaying building," he added, opening the top drawer of his desk, retrieving a key and waving it in Erik's face, "for unlike you, I still have my key for the Rue Scribe entrance to your lair."

Erik knew when he had lost an argument. Even though the key to the Rue Scribe entrance would make a trip to his lair comparatively safe even for himself, he could not deny that Nadir was a better choice, since he was not a wanted criminal that potential guards – either ones employed by de Chagny or members of the police force – might look out for. He surrendered. "When will you go?" he asked his friend. "Since it is obviously of importance to you to get your own clothes and to be financially independent of me, I have been thinking of going tomorrow morning," Nadir replied. "Just tell me exactly where you keep your money, I bet it is well-hidden. I think I will be able to find your clothes, though, and pack a few in a bag."

Xxx

Christine and the Girys had been waiting day after day for a message from Erik saying that he had arrived safely wherever he had been planning to go, but a week had passed without a word from him. Christine was getting nervous. Why did he not let them know that he was well? Did he not want to – or was he not able to? The more days passed without news from her beloved the less confident she became that she would be able to convince him of her love and win him back, while her love for him grew deeper and stronger every day. She was also worried about Erik since he must be suffering even more under the separation than herself, because he did not believe in her love.

When Mme. Giry once again sadly shook her head in reply to Christine's unspoken question about Erik, Christine decided she had waited long enough and that something needed to be done if she wanted to see her dear Angel ever again. "Mme. Giry," she begged. "Erik's silence is driving me crazy. I need to find him and to talk to him. Please, let me go to the Opera tomorrow morning. I do want to see if he has returned to his lair, or if I can find some hints there where he might have gone."

Meg hugged Christine to show her sympathy. "My poor Christine, you must miss him so much! I hope you will soon be reunited with your Erik again and that you will be able to make him see the truth," she smiled at her reassuringly.

"I guess we could go to the Opera tomorrow," Mme. Giry said hesitantly. "We could pretend we have heard rumors of renovation and want to check if there is any truth to them." Christine looked up. "I think I should go alone," she objected. "One person will draw less attention than a group. And just in case Erik has returned to his old home, he would not feel comfortable with the three of us invading his lair. Considering he doubts my feelings for him, just seeing me might be a bit overwhelming for him," she continued. "I do not want to get him on the defensive right from the start. Mme. Giry, you have already tried to convince him, you know how stubborn he can be. But since you could not talk sense into him the night he left, I doubt you would be able to do so now, should we meet him in his old home. I do not know if I stand a better chance, but at least let me try."

Mme. Giry thought about Christine's suggestion for a moment. If Erik had indeed returned to his lair, it was probably best if Christine confronted him alone. Should he not be there, one person was less conspicuous than two or three. Of course it would be best if neither of them were seen anywhere near the Opera building, since their presence there could give a certain Vicomte ideas of why his men had never found the Phantom's body, but one person would be less noticeable. As much as she hated letting Christine go alone, she had to admit that this was the best way to proceed under the circumstances.

"Fine, you may go alone," she finally relented, "but please be careful. The building has greatly suffered from the fire and not all passages or rooms may be safe, and there may be scavengers around. Promise me that you will return at the first sign of trouble." Christine nodded. She would be careful.

Xxx

The next morning, after breakfast, Christine left the Girys' home to look for Erik. Since she did not want to leave the house without her ring and Erik's letter, she had sewn a little pocket into her corset and hidden both objects in it. She did not want to wear the ring openly around her neck, since this could draw attention to it – especially considering she might run into people who remembered the incident at the New Year's Eve Masquerade - but she wanted to have these objects, that connected her to Erik, with her, when she was trying to find him.

Christine hired a carriage and asked the driver to drop her off a few streets from the Opera, at a shop she knew. From there she walked. It was a beautiful day, children were playing in the sunshine, birds were singing, and the air smelled like spring. If Christine had not been so preoccupied with her complicated relationship with Erik, she would have greatly enjoyed the walk.

After a few minutes Christine reached the ruins of the Opera Populaire. She had not been there since the night of the fire and now saw the extent of the damage for the first time in plain daylight. Even though the street in front of the Opera had been cleaned up, the sight of the once so magnificent Opera was depressing. The walls of the building were black with soot, the windows empty – the panes all broken or melted from the heat. Christine's heart sank. Seeing her former home in such poor condition made her very sad and she wondered what the inside of the Populaire would look like. Hesitantly she approached the main entrance. The huge double-door was badly damaged and charred by the fire, but the strong metal hinges were still firmly in place. The fire had not reached temperatures high enough to melt those. Christine decided that it would be safe to open the door and enter the building. The hinges would hold and the door itself looked stable enough that it would not collapse on top of her if she opened it.

Christine cautiously looked around before entering the building. She saw a few people passing in the street, but nobody seemed to pay attention to her or the burned down building. She quickly opened the door a bit and entered the Opera. The main foyer was a mess. Nobody had bothered to clean up the inside of the ruins. Among soot and ashes which covered the floor, Christine could see shards of the broken windows, some charred or half-burned objects fleeing audience members had dropped in panic and the remains of one of the beautiful statues, which had been dislodged from its pedestal by a combination of the heat, the onrush of the masses trying to run from the fire and a medium-sized beam falling on top of it.

Christine sighed. It had been her Erik to cause all that destruction. But she knew that this ultimately was her fault. Erik had not been in his right mind when he had dropped the chandelier on the audience. He had been insane with jealousy and the pain her betrayal had caused him. She shuddered at the memory of that day, the terrible scene in his lair, when Erik had threatened to kill Raoul unless she stayed with him. She had been afraid of him then, of his madness, but deep down she must have known that she belonged with him. Why else would she have kissed him then? It had been those kisses that had brought Erik out of his madness and had once again turned him into the loving, caring person he had always been to her. He had let her go, because he had thought that was what she wanted. He had put her happiness first. Christine once again marveled at how much Erik must love her that he could have been so deeply affected by her infidelity. How could she ever hope to make him understand that she regretted her relationship with Raoul? How could she ever make it up to Erik for all the suffering she had put him through? She shook her head. First things first. She would worry about these problems once she had found him.

Carefully checking every step of the huge main staircase if it would support her, she made her way to the upper level, and once there she quickly headed towards her former dressing room, once again checking every hallway she entered if it looked safe or if the ceiling was about to come down.

With all these precautions it took Christine longer than anticipated, but at least everywhere she passed through the roofs were safe, so she did not have to make any detours to reach her room. Once there she gazed around. The dressing room did not look any better than the rest of the house, even though it seemed as if the fire had not quite reached it. The door was charred on the outside, and soot and ashes that had made their way inside the room through cracks in the door, covered the floor and all the furniture, but the mirror, while slightly cracked in one corner, was still in one piece. Christine sighed in relief. At least the fire had not revealed the secret passage to Erik's lair. But of course it was still possible that either the heat or the dirt had somehow affected the opening mechanism.

Christine carefully approached the huge mirror and looked for the tiny handle cleverly hidden in the frame that would open the secret passage from her side and grant her access to Erik's lair. She would have preferred to lock the room behind her, before trying to operate the mirror's mechanism, but once opened she had not managed to completely close the charred door anymore. Apparently the heat had slightly skewed it. She decided that she would have to try and close the mirror behind her before descending the secret spiral staircase that lead to Erik's lair. She prayed that the mirror would not be affected in the same way as the door to the room and silently thanked God that she had not encountered anybody inside the building so far. Chances were good that she was the only living being in the Opera.

Her hands nervously fingered the soot-covered, once golden frame of the mirror and missed the handle at least twice before she finally found it. Resolutely she pulled it, and to her joy the mirror moved – not quite as easily as it used to, but the mechanism was still working. The torch that Erik usually left right behind the door, for her to find her way down to his lair, was still in place, and Christine was glad she had brought matches to light the torch. She quickly entered the secret passageway and started to pull the mirror closed behind her. To her dismay it was just as stuck as the door to her room. She hesitated. Should she continue even if the open mirror revealed the way to Erik's lair? What if he had moved back to his old home? Would she not betray him again if someone happened to pass by and find the passage that the mirror had concealed so far?

Christine was not sure what to do. She had not considered this possibility. But even if she went back now it was doubtful she could properly close the mirror from the outside again. While she was still thinking about what to do now, she heard a sound in the room outside. Trembling with fear she extinguished her torch and tried to pull the mirror as close to her as possible. She held her breath and hoped that whoever had entered would not notice the mirror and leave again after a few minutes. When the mirror was suddenly pulled open from the outside, she shrieked in terror and recoiled further into the dark passageway.

"There you are, Mlle. Daaé," a deep voice addressed her, and she saw a middle-aged man, dressed like a member of the working class. She was positive that she had never seen him before. "I was wondering, where you had disappeared to. You are looking for someone, aren't you?" the stranger continued. "The Vicomte was right, it seems, and that monster is still alive, isn't he? When you were refusing M. de Chagny so fiercely, he knew that your so-called angel must be behind it. You are about to rejoin him, I think. Why else would you be sneaking around here?"

Christine faced the stranger in shock. "Who... who are you?" she stammered after a while. "George Dupont, Mademoiselle, at your service. Private detective, hired by your fiancé, the most noble Vicomte Raoul de Chagny, to make sure you would not try to meet a certain criminal, that you seem to have befriended. My orders are further to immediately bring you to your fiancé, should I find you making an attempt to contact the aforementioned criminal. Of course, it would be an additional benefit if you revealed that murderer's whereabouts to me, but I guess the Vicomte will have other ways to make you give up that information than I have." He grinned at her lewdly.

Christine's mind raced. What should she say? All the evidence was pointing towards the fact that she had been trying to reach Erik's lair. "I … think you are mistaken," she finally stammered. "I came here looking for a favorite hairpin that I had left in my old dressing room. I thought, maybe it had survived the fire. When I saw this door, I thought it might have fallen from my desk and somehow rolled inside this passageway."

George Dupont roared with laughter. "Who do you expect to believe that nonsense, Mlle. Daaé?" he asked. "Will you now follow me outside to the carriage? The Vicomte will want to talk to you immediately." Christine looked at him defiantly. "I will not. I have broken off the engagement, as the Vicomte well knows, and I do not wish to see him right now."

The detective looked back over his shoulder. "Well, in that case," he said, "we will have to force you to come with us. Pierre, Jean-Paul!" he yelled, and two burly men entered the dressing room. "The lady does not want to come with us, so we will have to make her follow her fiancé's orders." He looked at Christine. "You have nobody to blame but yourself," he said, with a smug grin on his face. Each of the two burly men grabbed one of Christine's arms and lead her towards one of the back exits of the Opera. Christine struggled, but in vain, she could not free herself. She suddenly felt the blade of a knife on her throat. "Stop struggling, and don't even think about screaming once we are outside or you will feel this steel," the man Dupont had called Pierre hissed into her ear.


	14. Report

I am back - sooner than anticipated, because I got a bad cold and I am home sick.

Okay, I still don't own anything or anybody (sadly!), but I still love all my readers and reviewers etc. for your support! You are the greatest! Please stay with me and continue to review!

Anyway, this is probably Nadir's biggest part in the story, and I think while you will feel like slapping Erik a few times during this chapter, you will all be happy with our boy by the end of it.

Chapter 14 – Report

Erik nervously paced through Nadir's living room. It was three in the afternoon and Nadir had not returned yet. Even if his lair had been in disarray after the mob had ravaged it and things were hard to find, Nadir should have been back a while ago. Where was that Persian? Had there really been guards and had he been caught? Had the cellars been unsafe after the fire and had he been injured or trapped somehow? If so, what should he do? If Nadir was injured in the cellars he would need help as soon as possible, but could he risk going out and looking for him while the sun was still up? He would stick out, no matter what he'd do to hide his deformity. People would know that something was odd about him.

Darius was just as nervous as Erik, since his master normally did not stay away that much longer than anticipated, and to make things worse, Monsieur Erik behaved as if he were about to go look for Master Nadir, which of course would put him at great risk, too. "Monsieur Erik," he addressed the agitated young man, "please calm down. Don't do anything that would put you in danger, no matter what the master's situation, he would want you to stay safe." Erik's temper had returned with his strength, so he yelled at the poor manservant that maybe his master was injured and needed help and how in hell was he supposed to stay here and do nothing to assist his friend? Darius pleaded with him, promising that he would go with him to look for his master as soon as it would be dark enough for Erik to risk leaving the house. The argument escalated and the two men were shouting at each other in their shared worry for Nadir, when the latter's voice suddenly stopped them dead in the middle of their dispute.

"I see the two of you are having fun," Nadir smiled at them, amused. "I guess I should have stayed out a bit longer so that I would not interrupt you!" Two pairs of eyes looked at him in relief. "Thank God," Erik whispered. "We were worried about you," Darius added. Nadir was moved by their devotion. "As you both can see, I am in one piece, and I got your stuff, Erik," he added, putting down a large bag. "But I am glad I did go in your place. You would not have stood a chance." Erik looked at him. "There were still guards?" he asked.

Nadir nodded. "If you had shown up anywhere within half a mile of the Opera ruins you would have been followed. I noticed suspicious behavior several blocks away from the building. Nothing that the normal citizen would find unusual, but I am a former police officer, a daroga, I recognize spies when I see them. Since they did not know me, they did not pay me any attention, though. But," Nadir continued, "I do not think you were their only target. In fact, their other one was not as lucky as you. They did catch the girl."

Erik gave him a nervous look. "What are you talking about? A girl? Do you mean...?" Nadir nodded again. "Yes. They got your Christine. I saw them lead her away to a carriage, and she did not go with them willingly, I can tell you. It might have looked that way to the average passers-by, but I saw the characteristic beam of light that is caused by the reflection of the sun on a blade – and it came from the area of her throat."

Erik started pacing again. "What would Christine do at the Opera, and why would anybody seize her and where would they take her?" Nadir put his hand on Erik's shoulder. "Sit down, Erik, let me tell you what I saw and then let's decide what to do to help her." Erik sat down, his mind racing. Christine at the Opera? He could only think of one reason why she would have gone there – had she really been looking for him? Why? Wasn't she glad he was finally out of her life? Was she worried about him, did she feel pity for him, or…. He did not dare finish that thought. He did not want to get his hopes up, yet that nagging thought remained. What if she did care for him? "Tell me everything, Nadir," he rasped.

"At first everything went as planned," Nadir began. "As I said, the closer I got to the Opera, the more suspicious behavior, the more spies in disguise I noticed and the more careful I became. I decided to have a look at the front and the main entrance before moving on to the Rue Scribe and trying to reach your lair from there, and on my way home I would pass through the back alleys and check out potential guards at the back entrances." Erik thought that he would have done the same, it was a good idea to explore as much of the situation as possible, while you were there.

"Once I reached the front of the building, I noticed immediately that it was brimming with people. No, the ordinary person in the street would not have noticed, it was small things, like a reflection coming from a supposedly empty room and from a window that had no glass pane anymore to reflect anything from, a shadow behind a window, things like that, that you would not pay attention to unless you were looking for them. I knew that I had to be very careful even by going in through the Rue Scribe, and I was glad nobody knows of my connection to you." Erik smiled. Not even Antoinette knew about Nadir, his two most trusted friends had never met.

Nadir continued his report. "I reached the Rue Scribe and managed to enter as planned. I do not think anybody saw me, after all, as a former daroga, I know a few tricks myself, and since it is not public knowledge that one can reach the Opera from that side street, they were not paying too much attention anyway." He grinned. "I made my way to your lair. The cellars are pretty solidly built and the fire never reached that far down, so there was nowhere near as much damage as I had feared. I did not have to take any detours. The mob is an entirely different story, though. In short, to say that your lair is a mess would be an understatement. The furniture had been forced open, its contents either stolen or thrown on the ground, some pieces were broken. Fortunately they never found your secret little chamber, so your money is safe. I brought you enough to last you at least a year, by then we can risk another visit down there. As to your clothes, some were damaged, but I found enough that will serve you just fine once they have been washed and maybe the occasional missing button reattached. You should not need to buy anything new in the foreseeable future." Erik thanked Nadir. He was glad to have clothes of his own again and that his money was still in place, but the thought of his ravaged lair hurt him deeply. "My organ," he asked, "have they damaged my organ as well?" Nadir nodded. "I am afraid so," he replied, "though I would not be able to assess the extent of the damage. It may be salvageable, or it may not. In a few months, when it will be safe for you to go down there yourself you will have to check it out."

"Once I had packed the clothes that I found usable and retrieved enough money for the time being, I returned back towards the Rue Scribe," Nadir continued. "I once again slipped through the door unnoticed and locked it behind me. Then I started my way back through the small alleys that run along the back side of the Populaire to check those for spies. I was about halfway across the Opera's back when I noticed one of the smallest side entrances being opened and a group of three men and one woman exiting. One look at them was enough to convince me I didn't want to be seen by them, so I ducked behind a huge beam that had fallen from the roof of the building during the fire and took cover there. At least two of the men were thugs of the worst sort. Burly, brutal, up to no good. They were leading the young lady between them – and one of them was holding a knife to her throat. The third one followed them. Believe me, I have learned a few things during my time with the Persian police, I do recognize an abduction when I see one. She was not going with them willingly. And I am a hundred percent positive that it was your Christine." Nadir paused for effect. He wanted to see Erik's reaction. He was not disappointed. Erik jumped to his feet. "What did she do there? Nadir, what could she possibly have done there? And where did they take her, and why?" His voice was deep with worry. Nadir smiled inwardly. As bad as this situation was for Christine, hopefully it would give Erik the push he needed to convince himself that that girl loved him. After all, Christine needed Erik's help now.

"What did she do there? I am not sure, but the only reason I can think of for her to return to the Opera would be to look for you. Why else would she come to a burned down building that may not be safe to enter? Because of any belongings lost in the fire? Those would be destroyed and unusable anyway, and as far as I've heard, insurance has reimbursed the staff of the Opera for their losses. So the only reason I can think of is you. Unless I am mistaken, you told me that she had nursed you back to health, treated you like she were in love with you and called you her love or her darling, right? And you ran away one night without telling her where you went. Now if you had run off like that from me, I would be deeply worried, especially considering that you were not fully recovered yet when you left her. I bet that woman is worried sick about you and was hoping to find you or a hint where you might have gone, in your old home. She does know the way down, doesn't she?" Erik nodded, "Yes, she knows how to operate the mirror in her dressing room and to reach the lair from there." He added, hesitantly, "do you really think she might have been looking for me?"

Nadir rolled his eyes. "Do you have another explanation for her presence in the Opera building? I don't. Therefore I think it is safe to assume she was looking for you, whether you like it or not. But I am not finished yet, hear me out and maybe you have an answer to this question by then."

Erik looked up. "There is more?" he asked. "Of course," Nadir retorted. "Why do you think I returned so late? As to your second question, though, why did they take her, this is obvious in my opinion. They hoped she would be able to lead them to you. Yes, I know, they are mistaken on that, since she does not know where you are, so she will not be able to tell them, not even if she wanted to, and I have good reason to believe that she'd rather die than betray you." Nadir observed Erik closely. His friend was fighting an onslaught of different emotions, hope, doubt, and mostly worry for Christine. Nadir squeezed Erik's hand reassuringly. "We will rescue her, don't worry. I will help you. As a first step, I used all my training to follow them undetected to find out where they would be taking her. This was not too difficult, since they were concentrating almost exclusively on disguising the abduction as a harmless stroll among friends and on trying not to draw suspicion themselves. A few blocks further they hailed a carriage and forced her in. I got another carriage and had them followed from a distance. I had a pretty good idea where they would be heading, and lo and behold, their carriage stopped in front of the de Chagny estate!"

Erik felt like his heart was breaking yet again. "So she did go back to that boy," he whispered, the visible part of his face ashen with pain. "No!" Nadir yelled at him. When would that man accept the truth? "Don't you see, Erik, they must have told her where they were headed and she did not want to go there willingly. They had to force her, abduct her. Also, if she had wanted to rejoin the Vicomte after you had left, she could have done so. What else does it take for you to see that she has no intentions of going back to de Chagny?" Erik looked troubled. He wanted to hope but did not dare to do so. Could it really be that Christine wanted him, that she had chosen him after all?

"Hear the rest, Erik," Nadir continued. He knew that his friend's doubts would soon be a thing of the past. "I told my coachman to stop in a side alley and wait for me, then I sneaked up to the de Chagny estate. Fortunately they have lots of shrubbery in the garden, so it was not too difficult to get close to the house. And fortunately, because of the beautiful weather, the windows in most rooms were wide open. Of course I had missed the start of the conversation, but when I finally was close enough to the room where the Vicomte was talking to Mlle. Daaé, I could clearly hear her say the following words. Erik, I swear to you by Allah and the prophet that this is a verbatim quote. She said: No, Raoul, you are mistaken. I will not marry you, ever. If I cannot have my Angel, I will remain unmarried."

Erik jumped to his feet. He grasped Nadir as if he were to strangle him and yelled, "Nadir, anybody else I would have killed on the spot for daring to awake such hope in me, but I swear, I will still strangle you if I find out that you have lied to me!" Nadir smiled. At least Erik was past his self-pity. "Calm down, my boy," he said. "Those were her exact words. You may believe them or not, that's your choice, but in my opinion she made it pretty clear that she would have no problems accepting your proposal, while the Vicomte got a decisive "no" from her." Erik's head swam. Could it be? Was it possible that so much happiness was within his reach? Had Christine's heart really found its way to him? Had she really meant everything she had said to him during his convalescence? If so, his behavior was unforgivable. If she really loved him – and after what Nadir had told him, not even he could doubt that any longer – if she really loved him, then he must have broken her heart when he left Antoinette's house. How could she ever forgive him?

Nadir squeezed Erik's shoulder. "She does love you, Erik. I was already fairly certain about that when you told me your story a few days ago. After what I have observed today, there is no doubt anymore. And I don't think she is mad at you for leaving her like that. I think she does know you well and she understands you better than you may think. After all, despite the fact that you ran away from her, she still did say that she wants her Angel, and as far as I know that is you."

Erik broke down sobbing. The realization that he had been torturing himself with desperation for the past few days with no good reason, that he was loved by the one person that meant the world to him, had come too suddenly. He was torn between happiness almost too great to bear, shame for having doubted Christine's feelings for him and caused her pain and worry about what might happen to her now that the Vicomte had her in his power. He didn't think it likely that de Chagny would let her go after she had told him in no uncertain words that it was Erik she wanted.

Nadir gave him time to deal with all these emotions. He could understand that the unexpected sudden revelation of the girl's true feelings might be a bit overwhelming for Erik. When he saw that his young friend was beginning to calm down, he spoke again. "Erik, I think the most important thing to do is now to get her away from de Chagny as soon as possible. I do not think that he would," he hesitated, unsure how to phrase his thought, "um, I do not think he would make her succumb to him by force, but I do think he will try to bribe or blackmail her somehow into marrying him. After all, a marriage is the only way now that he can have her to himself. Even if forced into the marriage she might not betray her legal husband. She is a good Christian, isn't she?" Erik nodded. He had to admit that Nadir was right. If Nadir had overheard Christine refusing to marry de Chagny, the Vicomte must have previously told her he was planning to wed her as soon as possible or something along those lines. Her refusal and her words that she only wanted her Angel, must have angered the spoiled brat. The young nobleman knew who his rival was and he also knew that he had lost. If he wanted her as desperately as he seemed to, he would try his best to marry her – as soon as possible.

"Nadir," Erik said, "we must go to the de Chagny estate tonight and try to free Christine."


	15. One Lifetime?

Okay, you know the routine, don't own anything or anybody, yada, yada.

This chapter felt like it would take forever to be written. Raoul, uurgh! Don't despair, there is a reason why he has to be so **** (censored) in this chapter. This is necessary for the happy ending, because I want everything resolved, not just the romance, and in the last chapter even Raoul will get his redemption. Sort of. I think there might be 3 more chapters upcoming, the next one being the dramatic climax, with some tying up of lose ends and some fluffy fluff to follow afterwards.

As for the time frame, we are now in the first half of April, somewhere between April 10-15, 1871, since Nadir returned to Paris beginning of April, which is when Erik went to stay with him, and we are roughly one week later now.

Many thanks for all your reviews and support! Please keep it up! And I hope you will also follow my new story, which will be titled "Guide and Guardian" and the prologue of which will come online around the same time as the last chapter of this one. It will of course be E&C again.

Chapter 15 – One Lifetime?

During the carriage ride Christine pretended not to pay attention to her three captors, but tried to concentrate on what she would say to Raoul. She admitted to herself that it had been careless not to foresee that he would not give up on her so soon and that he would cause more trouble. When had he returned from Normandy anyway? She decided that she would not admit to knowing that Erik was alive, since that would definitely arouse Raoul's jealousy and put Erik at risk. She could say that she hoped Erik was well, but did not know where he was. She would also complain about having been abducted and demand that she be allowed to return to Mme. Giry.

After about twenty minutes the carriage stopped in front of the de Chagny estate. Dupont and his two thugs dragged Christine out of the carriage and into the house. A very bored-looking servant, who obviously felt incredibly superior to the three hired spies and the theater girl they brought to the noble estate, informed Dupont in a condescending, nasal voice that the Vicomte was currently in his study, but had left orders that the Mademoiselle (his voice sounded like he was talking about something extremely dirty and beneath him when he pronounced that word) should be brought to him at once should she show up at the estate.

Dupont laughed. "Thank you, your Highness," he mocked the noble servant. "We know our way to the study. You do not have to bother showing scum like us the way!" Ignoring the dumbfounded servant, he then grabbed Christine's arm and pulled her towards her former fiancé's study. He knocked and entered the room, smiling at the surprised Vicomte. "I brought you your lady, Monsieur de Chagny," he said."What about my payment?" Raoul completely ignored the detective. His eyes drank in the sight of Christine, disheveled and dirty as she was after exploring the ruins of the Opera house earlier. He beamed. "Thank God, Little Lotte, I am so happy that you are safe!" he exclaimed. "I was so worried that this beast would keep you under his spell forever."

Christine looked at him as if he had lost his mind. What was he talking about? "Raoul," she began hesitantly, not quite sure how to react to the young nobleman's obvious delusion, "Raoul, would you please care to explain why you are sending out detectives and thugs to abduct me and bring me here by force? If you had wanted to inform me and the Girys that you are back from Normandy all it would have taken for you would have been a visit to Mme. Giry's house. Why resort to such violent means?" She tried to sound as indignant as possible while at the same time trying to break free of Dupont's hold.

Her struggle drew Raoul's attention back to the presence of the detective. "Dupont, go down to my accountant's office and ask him to pay your salary. You have done a good job," he said and with a brief nod he dismissed the hired spy, who reluctantly left the room. It was clear that Dupont would have liked to hear more of the conversation between the Vicomte and the opera diva.

The moment Dupont had left the room, Raoul opened his arms as if he expected Christine to throw herself into his embrace. She wondered for the second time that day if he had maybe lost his mind and reminded him that she was not his fiancée any longer. She had broken off the engagement a while ago. Raoul smiled at her. "Oh Little Lotte, don't you think I understand it all, my darling? Of course that monster is still alive and he threatens you. We never found his body, but he cannot have survived without help, right? So where would he have gone for help? He does not have that many friends, maybe only one, don't you agree? And that's our good Mme. Giry. Yes, I know, she had betrayed him by showing me the way to his lair, but she must have been the only person he knew he could turn to. Do not lie to me, Lotte, he somehow found his way to Mme. Giry and somehow forced her to hide him and help him with his injury, and obviously he has also put his spell on you again and somehow bribed you into promising to go with him once he would be well again, am I right?" Christine was speechless. In a way Raoul had guessed right, but in another way he was completely wrong. She shook her head. "No Raoul, that's not what has happened," she tried to explain.

Raoul interrupted her. "Lotte, Lotte, do not try to play me for a fool. You do not have to pretend anymore. You are safe here, he cannot reach you here. This is not like Mme. Giry's house, where he can exercise his power over you. He will not be able any longer to keep us from getting married!" He tried to pull her into his arms. Christine recoiled to avoid his touch. "Raoul, I am sorry, you seem to be under the impression that I still want to marry you. But as I have already told you, this is not the case anymore. This is my own free decision. Nobody has forced me to call off our engagement. I did it because I realized that I cannot marry you."

Raoul seethed. "It is him," he hissed. "I have suspected for quite some time that you have certain sick fantasies about him. What is it that makes women wish to have a monster in their bed rather than a loving man? Do you think your beast might have more animalistic sexual prowess?" Christine shuddered at those insulting insinuations. "My Angel is not a beast," she began very calmly. "He is a caring man, and he has never treated me other than with the utmost respect. You will not speak like that about him in my presence."

"Or what?" Raoul mocked her. "I know what I know. Do not forget, I saw how he treated you the night of the fire, down in his lair. I also remember that you seemed to enjoy kissing him. So much so that you had to repeat the experience…" Raoul's words made Christine's head spin. She realized all of a sudden the similarity of the two situations. Roughly two months ago Erik had abducted her from the stage and tried to force her to marry him, now Raoul had had her brought to his home against her will and apparently was trying to persuade her to marry him. Back then, Erik had ultimately let her go, although he loved her, would Raoul have the inner strength to do the same?

"Raoul, please," she pleaded with her childhood friend. "Can we discuss this like two adults? I understand that you see my Angel as a rival and are jealous of my relationship with him, I also know that he felt the same way about you the night of the fire." Raoul looked at her. "You have given me plenty of reason to be jealous, have you not? Remember how you were clinging to him during that performance of "Don Juan"? Those kisses you shared with him before my eyes? But you are my fiancée, not his, and you will marry _me_!"

Christine shook her head. "No, Raoul, I am no one's fiancée." Raoul grabbed her arm. "Why do you resist me so much?" he asked. "You used to love me, remember? You once asked me to share with you one love, one lifetime. What has poisoned your mind and your heart so much that you now shy away from my touch? There is only one possible answer, Christine: it's him." Christine had to admit to herself that Raoul was right. Her recently discovered love for Erik was the reason why she did not want to marry Raoul anymore. She hesitated. Should she tell Raoul the truth? Would he understand or would he get even more upset? While she was still thinking about this, Raoul spoke again. "Little Lotte, I cannot let you fall prey to this madman. You may fancy him now, but as soon as you are his, he will make you incredibly unhappy. He will use you and once he finds a new toy, he will throw you away, maybe kill you, to get rid of you. Remember that he is a killer? The only way for you to be free of his spell, once and for all, is to marry me. I hope you will see the wisdom of this fact and praise my generosity that I am willing to take you back, no questions asked about what may or may not have happened between you and him. I offer you freedom and light, as you once asked of me. I give you an hour to think it all through, though I believe that that much time will not be necessary, you are probably certain by now that the best thing to do is to marry me as soon as possible – preferably tonight." Christine was shocked at his jealous rage, but she looked him straight in the eye and said very slowly, accentuating every single word, so that it might sink in and make him accept the truth. "No, Raoul, you are mistaken. I will not marry you, ever. If I cannot have my Angel, I will remain unmarried."

The moment she had said this she bit her lip. She had not meant to tell him that it was her Angel she wanted, but his accusations and insinuations had made her angry and thus careless. It was too late now to take her words back. Raoul grinned smugly. "So I was right," he said. "It is him you want after all." Christine nodded. There was no use denying it now. "Yes," she admitted. "I do love him."

"Where is he now?" Raoul asked. "Tell me, Lotte, I need to know!" Christine thanked God that she did not know Erik's whereabouts. She faced Raoul, proudly erect, her beautiful eyes holding the Vicomte's. She never wavered when she told him, "I do not know. I can swear an oath on the Holy Bible that I do not know where he is, if you want me to. But even if I knew I would not tell you." Raoul knew that she was speaking the truth. Her eyes could not lie like that. He nodded at her, relieved. "At least at the moment you are safe from him, then."

Christine decided to profit from his moment of relative softness and boldly continued: "Since I am not able to give you the information you want and I have no intention of marrying you, would you mind if I now left and returned home to Mme. Giry? She and Meg are probably already worried about me."

Raoul turned to her, surprised. "Who said you may go? That you do not want to marry me is irrelevant, you simply do not have another option left. You obviously do not understand what needs to be done for your own good. That you admit to having feelings for this _thing_ only shows me how strong and detrimental his influence on you already is. The only way to save you from him is if you become my wife. You need to be removed as far from his sphere of influence as possible. I cannot allow you to return to Mme. Giry's house, where he will continue to entrance you and make you do whatever he wants you to do." Raoul obviously had a very vivid and dirty imagination, for he shuddered at these last words. "I will allow you, though, to send a message to Mme. Giry inviting her and Meg to our wedding," he added, as if he were granting her a huge favor. "I bet they will both be relieved to see you rescued from this monster's grasp."

Christine could not believe it. Was he really that dumb? Did he not understand or did he not want to understand? Was this yet another case of him not being able to accept "no" for an answer? Why was he constantly making sexual insinuations about her and Erik? Did he really believe Erik would ask such things of her without being married and that she would agree? "Raoul, I have said it before, I am saying it again: I am not going to marry you. No matter what you say or do, I cannot, will not marry you."

"Are you so sure, my dear?" Raoul's grin looked positively wolfish. "Have you forgotten who you are talking to? I am a Vicomte, a member of the French aristocracy, I have a lot of influence in this country. I also have friends, some of them even more powerful than me. Right now only a handful of my men are looking for your so-called Angel, the police has closed the act on the Opera Ghost, listing him as deceased. But it would cost me only a few words in the right places to convince more than one high-ranking police officer that that criminal is not only still alive but also a threat to the entire country, and then let's wait and see what happens… Do you want him to be hunted down like vermin? Do you want him not to be safe anywhere anymore, not to be able to trust anyone anymore, to be constantly on the run till death finally puts an end to this miserable life?" Christine felt dizzy, there was this strange sense of déjà vu again. That night in Erik's lair. What had Erik said then? "Refuse me, and you send your lover to his death." Raoul's words now had the same meaning. What had she done back then? She shuddered. No, she would not do the same thing now. Back then she had accepted Erik's ultimatum. She realized now that she would never have been able to do so if she had not cared deeply for her Angel. But she could not give in to Raoul's blackmail now. If she did, she might keep Erik safe from prosecution, but this new betrayal would be the straw to make him break. It would kill Erik. She had to find a third alternative.

Raoul did not seem to wait for her answer, he behaved as if he knew her decision. He set down at his desk and wrote two short notes, then he rang. A young servant entered. "Michel, take these two notes to Father Gaspard and Mme. Giry at once. Mme. Giry and her daughter are to come here immediately to assist my bride with the wedding preparations, and I expect the Venerable Father at the chapel at eight o'clock tonight." After the servant had nodded and left the room to do as he had been ordered, Raoul turned to Christine. "See, Little Lotte, how confident I am of your answer? I know that you cannot refuse me under these circumstances. You will marry me tonight at eight o'clock after all. I have invited your Giry-friends and asked the priest to come. Everything is fine now – or will be soon. Tonight, you will be my rightful wife and share my bed!"

Christine turned away from him. She could not face his smug grin. She knew beyond any doubt that she would not marry him. She simply could not. He could not force her to betray Erik again, and even worse so than before. She was racking her brain to find a way out of this dilemma. If her only option was to say "No" in front of the altar, then she would do just that. She calmed considerably at that thought. That might indeed be an option. Or should she try arguing with Raoul again? She was fairly certain there was no point in doing so. Raoul was planning to marry her tonight and no matter how many more times she told him that she had no intention of becoming his wife, he would dismiss her, or worse, contact some of these police officers he had mentioned to show her that his threat was to be taken seriously.

Christine needed time. Time to think what she should or could do to keep Erik out of harm's way without breaking his heart at the same time. She also needed a chance to speak in private with Mme. Giry or Meg or both, so that they could make plans. Maybe one of them had an idea what could be done about Christine's current dilemma. Certainly saying no in front of the altar was a way of action to be seriously considered. Of course there was always the possibility that this priest was a devoted servant of the de Chagny-family that had conducted all the services for them in decades and felt indebted to them. But there was also a chance that he was a true man of God and would listen to a young woman in distress that was forced into a marriage. Surely no priest who took his profession seriously would continue with a wedding ceremony if the bride told him she did not want to marry the groom, but that the latter was trying to force her into marriage by threatening the life of the man she truly loved? She could only hope and pray that this Father Gaspard, whom she had never met, would be able and willing to help her. He might well be her last hope.

Christine looked up at Raoul again. "Let me think about all this, please," she begged. "I am so confused. I would also like to see Mme. Giry and talk to her, she is like a mother to me and certainly will be able to advise me what to do. Surely, you will not need my final answer before eight o'clock?" The Vicomte seemed to relent a little. "Of course, Little Lotte, think it through. I know that you are not stupid and will appreciate what I am offering you. I am willing to marry you, Lotte, despite everything. I love you so much that I am willing to save you from him and give you my name, the name of an honorable citizen and a nobleman. Who else could you expect to marry you now, that this beast has probably tainted more than just your reputation?"


	16. Rescue

I am back! Sorry for the delay, but a really bad cold and a very busy week will do that to you. :-(

I still don't own anything or anybody, and as I said, we are nearing the end of the story. I think that both, Erik and Christine, are doing cool things in this chapter, and it's starting to get fluff-heavy...

Many thanks once again to all my loyal readers and reviewers! Your support means the world to me!

Chapter 16 – Rescue

Mme. Giry and Meg arrived about an hour later at the de Chagny estate. Raoul welcomed them and lead them to the parlor to talk to them in private before reuniting them with Christine. He thanked them profusely for coming to assist his bride-to-be and attend their wedding tonight. Meg was about to say something, but her mother silenced her with one stern look. Mme. Giry knew that something was terribly wrong the moment she received Raoul's note. She had to talk to Christine and find out what had happened. She was fairly certain, though, that the only way to convince Raoul to grant her a private conversation with her surrogate daughter was to pretend to be on his side.

"You have returned from Normandy, Vicomte?" she asked in a conversational tone. "Christine must be so happy that you are back! When did you talk to her? Did you meet her by accident? She was running a few errands this morning," she continued cautiously. "Uhh, so to speak," Raoul muttered. "I told her that it would be for the best to get married on the spot, as I am sure you will agree." Mme. Giry saw no reason for this wedding to take place at all and was certain that Christine was of the same opinion, but she smiled as if in agreement. "Where is the young bride, Vicomte? May I see her? I do want to wish her all the best for this important step!" After this display of acting talent, Raoul allowed her and Meg to see Christine, and with the hint that they had to discuss "female affairs" related to a wedding and married life, they managed to get Raoul out of the room.

The moment the door had closed behind him, Christine collapsed into Mme. Giry's open arms and told her what had happened. Mme. Giry and Meg were just as shocked as Christine about Raoul's behavior. All three women agreed that Christine could not marry Raoul under any circumstances, but that they would play along as long as possible to make sure Raoul didn't do anything to endanger Erik. All three secretly hoped that rumors of the planned marriage had gotten out and that maybe Erik would hear about it in time to do something, or at least that he would come and claim Christine once she had officially rejected de Chagny. They would all three keep their eyes open and look for a chance to escape, but if the Vicomte really tried to go through with the wedding, Christine would have to turn him down in front of the altar.

Xxx

For Erik time seemed to crawl by. Now that he knew that Christine indeed preferred him over the de Chagny boy, he could not wait to hold her in his arms, to kiss her and to ask her to forgive him for doubting the sincerity of her feelings. Even though he was convinced that the Vicomte would not physically harm her, he was also quite nervous about the fact that his beloved was currently at his rival's mercy. He agreed with Nadir, though, that it was best to wait for the evening, before attempting to rescue Christine. Darius had volunteered to accompany them, and all three men were anxiously waiting for the sun to go down, so that it would be relatively safe for Erik to leave the house.

They had considered contacting Mme. Giry and telling her what they knew about Christine's current whereabouts, since she was probably worried about her protégée, but Nadir thought that maybe de Chagny had the Girys' home under surveillance, hoping to get information on where to find Erik by observing the comings and goings there, and had therefore advised that it would be better to get Christine first and contact the Giry-women once the young singer was safe. Erik agreed with him, though he ached to let Antoinette know that he would do everything in his power to help Christine.

It was close to seven o'clock, when it was finally getting dark enough outside that Erik could leave the house without drawing too much attention. Fortunately, Nadir had not only brought him dark clothes, but also his wig and a wide-brimmed hat from his lair, so Erik could be reasonably certain that his mask would go unnoticed in the streets, especially when he was flanked by Nadir and Darius on either side.

The three men decided to walk to the de Chagny estate. In order to avoid the more frequented streets they would stick to the darker alleys instead. Because of this precaution it took them close to an hour to reach the Vicomte's home in one of the more fashionable suburbs. By then it was completely pitch-black dark, so the three men had no problems entering the large garden unseen. They were about to approach the house, when one of the side-doors opened, and they saw two women exit, followed by the Vicomte with Christine on his arm. They immediately recognized the Girys and they also noticed that the Vicomte was not exactly leading Christine along, but rather dragging her, while obviously keeping an eye on the two women in front of him. Had they been a bit closer, they would have attacked the Vicomte right away and freed the three ladies. As it were, all they could do was hasten their pace and follow the group, without making any noise and alerting the Vicomte to their presence.

They realized soon that the Vicomte was headed towards a small chapel in one corner of the garden and tried their best to get there as fast as possible as well. They saw that a priest in full regalia was awaiting the group at the chapel's door and therefore they quickly approached the small side-entrance. The lock proved no problem for Erik and fortunately the hinges were well greased, so that their entrance through the side-door went unnoticed. Erik almost froze in horror, when the moment they entered he heard Raoul say "I do." What was this, a wedding? Was Raoul trying to marry Christine, had she consented after all? Had the Girys been asked to assist the wedding and were all three women here out of their own free will? If so – what was he doing here?

The priest nodded at Raoul and turned to Christine. "And do you, Christine Daaé.." He never finished his sentence, for Christine interrupted him. "No, I do not. Father, you do not have to repeat the whole list of things, for I do not promise any of them, I do not want to marry Raoul de Chagny!"

A moment of perfect silence followed, and Erik's heart sang. Christine did not want the Vicomte after all! She had refused the handsome young man! Then the priest burst out into roaring laughter. "Oh my God, Raoul, that is priceless! You do realize that she must want you, even for a fake wedding she must say that she wants you!" The next moment everything happened at once. Raoul hissed at the fake priest, "Stop it, Louis!" The latter suddenly found himself with Erik's Punjab lasso around his throat, choking, while Raoul's arms were held by Nadir and Darius on either side.

Christine's face was radiant. "Erik," she looked at her beloved pleadingly. He knew she asked him not to kill the false priest and smiled at her. "Don't worry, my love, I will make sure your honor is restored, then we'll talk." He looked at her so full of love and so reassuringly, that she knew he would not do anything he would regret later.

Erik jerked the lasso around his victim's throat. "So, Louis, let's start with you. Who are you, and why are you playing a priest, obviously to perform a fake wedding and make this young woman believe that she is properly married so that the Vicomte here can have his way with her later." The man squirmed and looked to Raoul for guidance. Erik jerked the lasso again. "We do not have all night, Louis," he hissed. "Let's start with your last name." The man finally decided it was in his best interest to oblige his captor. "De Vaucourt," he stammered. "My name is Louis de Vaucourt. My great-uncle Gaspard was a man of the church and my family still has some of his robes and frocks. So whenever there is need for a fake priest, people send me a note to "Father Gaspard, care of Louis de Vaucourt" and I will then show up dressed in my great-uncle's clothes to perform whatever service is wanted. More often than not it is a fake marriage, but we have also had deathbed scenes, where I made the dying person change their last will and similar scenarios." Erik shook his head at such corruption and asked calmly. "Are you willing to give me a written confession of what you have been doing here tonight and who has summoned you?" The rope around de Vaucourt's neck must have been a most convincing argument, since he immediately nodded to show his willingness to do as asked.

Erik turned to Mme. Giry. "Antoinette, would you kindly look for a pen, ink, paper etc.? Surely there must be such items since they were planning to issue a fake marriage certificate tonight." She looked around and found everything needed in the sacristy. Erik forced his victim to sit down and write the whole confession, detailing both, his own involvement and the Vicomte's intentions of luring the innocent Miss Daaé to his bed by means of a fake marriage. When de Vaucourt had finished writing the confession, Erik read it through and nodded in approval. "Now you will both sign it," he told de Vaucourt and the Vicomte. The latter tried to protest but one stern look from Erik made him comply as well.

Erik folded the document and put it into his front pocket. He then released the fake priest. "Go," he told him authoritatively. "Leave immediately and do not return. I will not inform the authorities tonight, since my friends and I arrived in time to prevent any harm, but should we learn that you continue to hurt people by playing the priest, the police will hear about it and might see a copy of this confession." De Vaucourt ran to the door immediately. Erik told Darius to follow the false priest to make sure he really had left and was not hiding anywhere nearby, then he turned to Raoul.

"And now to you, Vicomte," he said menacingly. "What you intended to do to Miss Daaé is too horrendous for words and utterly unforgivable. How could you possibly treat her like the first-best whore from the street? Do you not know that she is a woman of impeccable virtue?" Raoul squirmed in the stronghold of Nadir's arm. "I am not as lucky as you," he hissed. "My only chance to get her into my bed was a marriage, and she refused even that!" Erik sneered at him. "You did not even intend to marry her, you were forcing her into a fake marriage!" Raoul gave him a smug grin. "You do not expect me to legally marry your mistress, do you?" he asked.

Erik slapped Raoul hard across his grinning face. "You bastard, stop insulting Christine! I have not touched her and would never force her to marry me or trick her into bed with a fake wedding." His voice was dripping with contempt. Christine looked at Raoul. "Do you really have such a low opinion of me, Raoul? Do you really believe I would give myself to anybody but my rightful husband? Believe it or not, but I am still a virgin." The Vicomte faced her, and one gaze into her huge, dark, innocent eyes told him that she was speaking the truth. His face fell. "Oh my God, Christine, what have I done? I love you so much and I have insulted you in the worst possible way! How can you ever forgive me?"

Christine looked to Erik for permission to take over, and when he silently nodded at her, she addressed the young Vicomte. "Raoul," she began, "we were friends once, and because of our childhood together and those memories that I still cherish, I hope that I will one day be able to forgive you for what you intended to do to me tonight. But," she continued, "in order to make me forget what happened tonight, you must promise me something." Raoul looked at her, hope in his eyes. "Anything, Christine," he stammered, "I will promise you anything you want, but please forgive me!" Christine looked around and suddenly noticed a beautiful old bible on the chapel's altar, a leather-bound book that looked as if it had been in the family for years. "Oh Raoul, is this the de Chagny family bible you told me so much about when we were children?" she asked. When he nodded, she continued. "Raoul, are you willing to swear an oath on this Holy Bible that from now on you will leave me and my Angel in peace? That you will never persecute him again and will never try to pursue me. That you will do nothing to alert anybody that the so-called Phantom of the Opera is still alive, so that Erik and I can live in peace? If you promise me that and swear it on this bible, then I will one day be able to forgive you for your plan to steal away my virginity." She looked Nadir in the eye. "Release him, please," she begged. "I do not want Raoul to think that I am forcing him into taking an oath."

Nadir glanced at Erik, who gave him a curt nod. Nadir reluctantly released the Vicomte, but both men kept an eye on him. Raoul looked at Christine. "Thank you for treating me with more respect than I have treated you," he said. "Christine, is this really what you want? Do you really want to be with this – man" – he made an effort to avoid calling Erik a monster or a thing – "is he not putting you under any spell, coercing you in any way, shape, or form?" Christine shook her head. "No, unlike you, he is not forcing me in any way, shape or form. In fact, if you remember, he was willing to release me, out of love, because he thought that that was what I wanted. For him, what I want will always be more important than what he wants. That is why I love him and want to spend the rest of my life with him. In peace. Not constantly on the run, because you cannot let go of me."

Raoul gave her a tiny little smile, and for a moment he seemed to be the little boy again, her friend and playmate, her childhood sweetheart. "Fine, Christine," he said, his eyes dark with suppressed pain. "If you are sure that this is what you really want, I have to try and do the same as your dear "Angel" was willing to do, and let you go." He approached the altar and put his hand on the beautiful old Bible. "I swear on this Bible by everything I love and hold dear, that I will not persecute the former Phantom of the Opera anymore and will make sure the authorities believe him dead, so that this man can begin a new life. I will not try to win Christine Daaé for myself anymore and will release her so that she can marry the man she loves and live in peace with him."

Christine smiled. "Thank you, Raoul," she whispered. Then she looked at Erik, who opened his arms for her and she flew into his embrace. "Do you believe me now?" she asked him. "Oh my Angel," Erik sighed, "can you forgive me for doubting you?" Christine caressed his uncovered cheek. "It was my own fault, that you had your doubts, how could I blame you?" She looked up at him, her lips inviting him to kiss her. Erik did not hesitate any longer. His lips met hers in the first kiss of love. They had kissed before, but Christine had not known then that she loved Erik and Erik would never have believed it back then. Now they both knew that they loved each other. Christine's lips parted the moment Erik's touched hers and their tongues met, igniting both their bodies with passion and desire. When they both ran out of breath and separated, Erik dropped on one knee, holding Christine's hands in his. "Christine, will you marry me?" he asked. Christine smiled at him. "Of course, my Angel. I have waited for your proposal ever since you regained consciousness after your shoulder injury!"

Erik rose to his feet again and put one arm around Christine's shoulder, leading her to Mme. Giry. "Antoinette," he said, "here I bring you my fiancée. Since neither of us has any living blood relatives, you are the closest thing to family either of us has. I therefore ask you for your blessing." Mme. Giry had tears in her eyes as she hugged first Christine and then Erik. "Finally," she sighed. "I have known for quite some time that the two of you belong together and I am overjoyed to see that all problems are at last resolved, all the clouds have disappeared and you can finally be happy. Of course I give you both my blessing."

Then Meg hugged Christine to congratulate her and Nadir shook Erik's hand, wishing him and his bride all the best for their engagement. Christine snug up to her fiancé again and asked him, "Erik, don't you think you should introduce me to your friend?" Erik smiled. He had totally forgotten, that the three ladies and Nadir had never met. He quickly made the introductions, and since Darius returned at that moment, reporting that de Vaucourt had gone back to a carriage that he had had waiting nearby and had definitely left, Erik introduced him as well. He then addressed Raoul again. "Vicomte, we would appreciate if we could borrow one of your carriages to bring the ladies home," he requested. "Darius here will return it later tonight." Raoul nodded. "Be my guest," he said, "after having witnessed this scene, I know that Christine really loves you. You have nothing to fear anymore. I will keep my oath. For her." He lead them to the stables and provided them with a carriage and horses. Nadir took the coachman's place and Darius set next to him, while Erik set in the carriage with the ladies, so that he could tell them how he had known of Christine's abduction and therefore been there when the ladies needed help.

Once they arrived at the Giry-home, Antoinette asked Erik and his two friends to come by the next evening, to celebrate the engagement and discuss wedding arrangements. Erik and Christine looked each other in the eyes and blushed deeply. Tomorrow they would plan their new life together.


	17. Bliss

You know the routine - don't own anything or anybody. And thank you all for you reviews!

Yeah, I know, Raoul gave in a bit too easy, but there is a bit more to come about Raoul next chapter. He is not all bad, he was just out of his mind with jealousy. Reminds you of someone else? ;-)

As to our two love-birds: they are headed towards wedded bliss - and I think I should warn you, it's getting really fluffy now!

Chapter 17 – Bliss

The next evening, Erik, Nadir and Darius arrived at Mme. Giry's house as planned. Erik had hoped that Christine would answer the door and let them in, but to his surprise it was Antoinette to greet them. She smiled at him and asked, "Can I have a moment with you, Erik?" He nodded, nervously. Was something wrong with Christine? Mme. Giry ushered Nadir and Darius into the parlor then addressed her old fried. "Erik, I probably should have asked your permission first, but I have invited yet another guest." As Erik gazed at her furiously, she patted him on the shoulder. "Relax, Erik. It is an elderly priest, who I know fairly well. He baptized Meg and he has met Christine a few times. I have told him about Christine's engagement and he is willing to marry the two of you." Erik still felt nervous. "Does he know…," he stammered, "I mean, will he accept that I am wearing a mask?" Mme. Giry nodded. "Yes, he knows about that. He said, as long as he is convinced that you and Christine are in love with each other, he will have no problem with marrying the two of you, and if we want it private, with just the six of us there, that is fine with him as well. By the way," she smiled at Erik, "I told him a bit about your past, like the gypsies, to explain to him that I know you well enough to trust you with my surrogate daughter. Don't worry, it will be fine. Now go in, Christine is waiting for you!"

Christine had been watching the door, waiting for her beloved. She was nervous, for she knew his temper and hoped he would not be too upset about the presence of Father Aurelien. Erik was equally nervous when he opened the door. Of course he had known that getting married would involve meeting with a priest and a registrar, but the unexpected presence of a stranger still made him a bit uncomfortable and ill at ease. He would not have had to worry. The moment he entered the room, Christine rose to her feet and smiled at him, encouragingly. "Erik!" Their eyes met, Erik opened his arms, and Christine threw herself into his embrace, resting her head on his chest. Erik caressed her hair, playing with her beautiful chocolate brown curls and whispered in her ear, how much he had missed her all day. Mme. Giry, who had followed Erik inside, cleared her throat. "I am sorry to interrupt you, but Christine, don't you think you should introduce your fiancé to Father Aurelien?"

Christine blushed in embarrassment, but the elderly priest smiled at her good-naturedly. "Mlle. Daaé, I take it this is the gentleman you want to marry? I have to say, the two of you indeed seem to be very much in love, as I just could witness." He thought to himself that he had rarely seen a young couple asking him to unite them in matrimony who had looked at each other with as much love in their eyes as the young singer and her masked fiancé, who seemed almost twice her age. Christine held on to Erik's arm and smiled lovingly at him before answering the priest's question. "Yes, Father, this is my Erik, and I do indeed love him very much." The priest nodded, then he addressed Erik. "Do you have a last name as well, my son? I only ever hear you referred to as Erik." Erik chuckled, he suddenly realized that not even Antoinette knew the name that he himself barely remembered anymore, since he had not used it since before his time with the gypsies. "Erik Moreau, Father, though I do not have any documents to prove this. I think Antoinette has mentioned my unfortunate childhood with the gypsies…" his voice trailed. Father Aurelien smiled at the unusual couple. "Sit down, my children, make yourselves comfortable and we can discuss how to proceed."

Erik and Christine sat down on the sofa next to each other, their hands intertwined. Only now did Erik notice that Christine was wearing the ring on her finger again, as she had done all those weeks ago in his lair, the night of the fire, the night they had kissed for the first time. He smiled at her and kissed the finger wearing the ring. Father Aurelien addressed Erik again. "Do you know your parents' names, the date and place of your birth, if so, the registrar I usually work with for weddings could provide you with new documents." Erik shook his head. "My parents were Madeleine and Charles Moreau, and I was born in the vicinity of Rouen, but I do not know my date of birth. I am approximately 35 years old, that is the closest I can tell you. My mother never bothered celebrating the anniversary of the day she gave birth to a freak of nature," he added. Christine squeezed his hand comfortingly. "You are no such thing, and if your mother were still alive and knew you now, what a talented, caring person you have become, I am sure, she would be proud of you." The priest thought about it for a moment. "There have been similar cases, when birth certificates were issued with approximate dates, I do not see a problem with that, my son. Now tell me, how long have you and Mlle. Daaé known each other?" The young couple looked at each other, then they smiled. "For approximately ten years," Christine said. "Though, of course, Christine was only a child at that time, and I did not know yet, how much she would one day mean to me," Erik added, pulling his fiancée closer to him and looking her deep in the eyes.

The priest thought by himself that it was refreshing to watch a couple, who so openly displayed their affection – and who quite obviously was very deeply in love. "So, I take it, your common acquaintance Mme. Giry introduced you to each other?" he asked. Christine giggled. "Actually, when I first met Erik, I thought my dead father had sent him to me, but it is a long story. Mme. Giry knew about our friendship from the start, though, and I think she knew that I love Erik before I realized it."

Father Aurelien seemed satisfied. "I do not see a reason why I should not be able to marry the two of you, whenever you wish to get married," he announced. "Have you thought about a wedding date yet?" Erik looked at Christine. "Christine, I would like to get married as soon as possible. We have both been through a lot and we know that we belong together. Neither of us has any family left, we are living with friends, we both long to form a new family together. Would you mind getting married next Sunday?" Christine blushed but nodded in agreement. The priest thought by himself that an early wedding date was certainly to be recommended for a couple as much in love as these two, and since they had known each other for such a long time, he did not see a reason why they should wait any longer.

Mme. Giry had her objections, though. "Erik, are you crazy, that is in three days! How can we get everything organized by then! The two of you do not even have a home yet!" Erik did not accept any objections, though. "Christine and I can go on a honeymoon right after the wedding," he suggested. "Nadir, haven't you recommended that I spend some time in the South? So, what about Italy, Christine? Would you want to go there with me for a few weeks or months? We can look for a house to buy once we are back. All we need right now are the rings, and I think we can get those by Sunday, right, Nadir?" The former daroga agreed. "Yes, with the right connections and the right amount of money, you can get the rings by Sunday."

Mme. Giry was not satisfied yet. "What about a wedding gown? You don't expect Christine to get married in one of her everyday-dresses!" Christine looked up. "I do have a wedding gown, Mme. Giry. I have cleaned it up and repaired the damage at the hem, it should be as good as new." Erik stared at her. "Are you talking about _that_ dress? You still have that? You would want to wear it?" Christine kissed his exposed cheek. "Of course, my love. This is the dress you chose for me, the dress I was wearing when I kissed you for the first time. I cannot imagine any other dress more appropriate to wear at our wedding than this one."

After Father Aurelien had also reassured them that there were no regulations against having a best man who was of Muslim faith, the date was set for the coming Sunday, and the ceremony discussed in more detail.

Xxx

The next days went by in a hurry. A lot still needed to be organized. Nadir and Erik had to look for the rings, Mme. Giry and the girls studied railroad guides and planned the young couple's trip to Florence, with Meg's help Christine tried several hairstyles, trying to look as pretty as possible for her dear Angel on their wedding day and Darius worked on a wedding cake for Monsieur Erik and his bride.

On Sunday, at five in the afternoon, Erik, Nadir and Darius arrived at the small church, where Father Aurelien would be performing the wedding. Erik was wearing his best dress clothes and definitely looked dashing. The three men and the priest were standing in front of the altar, when the main door of the church opened and the three ladies entered. Meg, the bridesmaid, came first, she looked like a goddess of spring in her pale pink dress with a wreath of flowers in her blond hair. She was followed by Christine, who was being lead by Mme. Giry, who had agreed to give her away, since Christine had no male relative to perform that task. Christine wore her wedding gown with a beautiful, long white veil and a myrtle crown in her chocolate brown curls. Erik thought that she had never looked lovelier than the moment she reached his side and smiled at him through the veil.

They both repeated the marriage vows, that Father Aurelien read to them, promising to love each other and to cherish each other in good days and bad days, in illness and health, forever and always. They exchanged the rings that the priest had blessed and at last were proclaimed husband and wife and Erik was allowed to kiss his bride. Mme. Giry hugged both her protégés and wished them all the best for their life together. She had tears in her eyes, and was overwhelmed by the love that radiated from the two of them. Meg hugged Christine, whispering her congratulations into her friend's ear, then gingerly shook Erik's hand. She still found him a bit intimidating and could not quite understand what Christine saw in him.

Then it was Nadir's turn to present his compliments. He was genuinely happy for Erik. In the few days since he had finally met Christine in person, he had formed a very positive opinion of her. He sensed that she truly loved Erik and appreciated his many qualities and talents, and that Erik's face did not matter to her. In a way, she seemed to love him even more because of it, as if she wanted to compensate him with her love for all that he had suffered previously. When Nadir shook her hand and wished "Mme. Moreau" all the best, Christine immediately asked him to call her by her first name. "You are Erik's best friend," she said, "and I hope you will extend this friendship to me as well, now that Erik and I are husband and wife." Nadir gladly accepted and asked her to call him "Nadir" as well, just like Erik did.

After Father Aurelien and his registrar colleague had issued the marriage certificate – and a duplicate birth certificate for Erik, so that he would have proper documents from now on - they all went to Mme. Giry's house to have coffee and some of Darius' delicious wedding cake. When the guests had left, Mme. Giry and Meg went to a near-by hotel to spend the night there. They had decided that they would leave their house to Erik and Christine for their wedding night to give them some privacy. It was their wedding gift to the newly-weds.

Erik and Christine were alone at last. They retired to Christine's room, which was larger than the one Erik had occupied during his illness. They looked at each other, slightly embarrassed. "Oh Christine," Erik began hesitatingly, "I have already told you once before, that because of my face, I have not had any experience…" He summoned all his courage and continued, "I mean, I have never before been with a woman. I do not know how to pleasure a woman, I am probably not the best lover." Christine laughed. "Oh Erik, that makes two of us, I have no experience in these matters either. But if you think I have a problem with it that I am your first, you are wrong. It makes me proud that there has not been any other woman, that I am the one and only for you, as you are the one and only for me. We will just have to learn together." He looked at her, relieved. "Are you sure? I would not want to hurt you…" Christine took off his mask and caressed his deformed cheek. "Oh my Angel, do you really think you could hurt me? I trust you, I love you, and I want you to make me your wife – in every sense of the word." Blushing deeply, she offered him her lips to kiss, and once their tongues met in passion and desire, there suddenly were no doubts and no hesitation in either one of them, they instinctively knew what to do, piece after piece their clothes came off, their hands and lips explored each other's bodies, until the tension was unbearable and they finally joined and became one.

Afterwards, they lay exhausted and happy in each other's arms, smiling at each other, telling each other, how much they had enjoyed their love-making, until Christine shyly looked at Erik and asked, "do you think, we could do that again?" He grinned happily, he had been about to ask her the same, and once more they caressed each other and explored each other till their bodies once again united in joy and love.

Xxx

The next morning, they woke in each other's arms. It was rather late, since they had both been exhausted after their repeated love-making and therefore overslept. Christine looked at the wall clock and sat up alarmed. "The Girys will be back in two hours, we have to take a bath and get dressed by then! How can we manage, it takes so long to draw a bath!" Erik had the perfect solution. "Do you think we could both fit into the bath tub at the same time?" he smiled at his wife. Christine blushed. That thought appealed to her. "Let's try," she said, and happily they ran to the bath room, still naked, to prepare their bath.

Of course bathing together proved another source of enjoyment for them and they barely managed to get dressed before Mme. Giry and Meg returned home. Mme. Giry did not have to ask how they had enjoyed their wedding night. She noticed right away that Erik had never been nearly as relaxed and happy as he was this morning, and Christine was positively radiant – the naïve young girl had blossomed into a woman that night. Meg was a different story, though, she tried to get some information out of Christine, blushing and giggling, asking her for details, if Christine really had allowed Erik to …. and if so, if it had been as disgusting as she imagined it to be? Christine smiled to all these questions and told Meg to wait till she would find her Mr. Right, then she would see for herself.

The four of them had lunch together, then Mme. Giry helped Christine pack. Erik had brought his bag with him, and in the afternoon, the Girys saw the newly-weds off at the train station, from where they were planning to go to Florence for a while. Nadir and Darius also came to the station to say good-bye to the young couple. Nadir promised to keep his eyes and ears open to see if the Vicomte really was keeping his word and not doing anything that could endanger Erik, once the young couple would be coming home. Everybody agreed, though, that even if de Chagny proved to be reliable it would be best for Erik and Christine to stay abroad for a few months, till the chandelier incident and the fire at the Opera Populaire would be considered old news and would be no longer of interest to the Paris society. Erik did have enough money with him that they could live in Italy for a while, and should they need more, Nadir would be able to get additional funds from Erik's lair and send him the amount needed through his bank.

When the young couple finally boarded the train and it was time to say good-bye, all six were fighting tears. They knew that it would be a while before they would see each other again. "Promise to write often," Mme. Giry told Christine for the fifteenth time at least. The young woman nodded. "Of course, we'll write as soon as we arrive in Florence, and we will tell you about everything we see and do there," she promised. "Don't forget us, if we stay away for a few months, we definitely will be back," Erik reminded Nadir and Darius, then the train started. One last look back to the friends standing on the platform, waving to them, then they were alone, on the way to their future together.


	18. All is well that ends well

So, this is it - the end of this story. I hope you enjoyed it!

I still don't own anything or anybody, but I tried to make them all happy! ;-)

Many thanks to all my loyal readers and reviewers - I hope you will continue to support me with my new story, titled "Guide and Guardian". I hope I have not scared you all away with the slightly vague and cryptic prologue! I am surprised I have not seen any guesses on what the prologue might be about. I hope to have the first chapter up soon, maybe things will be clearer then!

Anyway, here is the end of "You Are Not Alone"

Chapter 18 – All is well that ends well

Spring turned into summer and summer into fall, but Erik and Christine had not returned home to Paris yet. Both corresponded regularly with the Girys and Nadir, so the two knew that the Vicomte obviously had kept his word and had let the authorities believe that the famous Phantom of the Opera had died after having been shot by one of de Chagny's own men.

A while ago Meg and Mme. Giry had also informed the young couple that Messieurs Firmin and André had apparently been able to raise the necessary money for a restoration of the Opera Populaire. The reopening was tentatively scheduled for fall 1872, and the two managers had not only offered the Girys their former positions again, but also asked them if they thought that maybe Mlle. Daaé could be convinced to perform at the opening gala. Christine had written back asking Mme. Giry to tell them that Mlle. Daaé had in the meantime become Mme. Moreau, but was still willing to consider that offer. She would let them know a bit closer to the planned reopening if she would be available.

Fall was about to turn into winter and the first snowflakes were dancing in the gray November twilight, when Mme. Giry, who was on her way home from the market, suddenly heard somebody call her name. She looked around to see who was calling her and found herself face to face with Raoul de Chagny. He looked haggard and unusually nervous. "Monsieur le Vicomte," she greeted him. "How may I be of assistance?" Raoul looked at her uneasily, and seemed to hesitate for a moment. Finally he summoned all his courage and asked the question that was burning in his heart. "Mme. Giry, how is Christine? Has she married him … her Angel?" Mme. Giry nodded quietly. "Yes, Vicomte. They got married last April. Christine is very happy. They both are. They are very much in love with each other."

Raoul tried to smile, although tears were welling up in his eyes, so that his smile looked more like a grimace. "I am happy for her," he said. "I truly am. If you see her, will you tell her that I am sorry for my behavior last spring? I was mad with jealousy. I was not in my right mind. I did not understand what I was doing to her, how terribly I insulted her. I understand it only now, that I have calmed down a bit. And I know now that her Angel must have been in a similar situation last February. I thought he was a monster for bringing down the chandelier and setting the Opera on fire, but I realize now that I was capable of similar actions once I knew I had lost Christine. He was just a man in love, like me. Not a monster, as I had believed. And since you say that she is happy with him and that he obviously treats her well…. I am happy for her, because deep down I have always known that he was the one for her, not me. That first night when I found her again, the opening night of "Hannibal", I asked her out for dinner, but she went with him. I should have known then who her heart belonged to. I just didn't want to admit it to myself." Mme. Giry squeezed his hand and promised to relay that message to Christine.

"There is something else," Raoul went on. "I just signed up for another tour of duty in the Navy. I will be leaving France next week. I will be gone for almost a year. I was hoping that maybe… once I am back, enough time will have passed for her to forgive me. That maybe then she may allow me to see her again." Mme. Giry was not so sure Erik would want for Christine to see Raoul again, but she promised to pass that message on to Christine as well. Raoul thanked her, then bid her farewell and went his way.

When Mme. Giry arrived at home, she found Meg bubbling with joy. "Mother, they are finally coming home!" Meg screamed, waving a letter in her mother's face. "Christine and Erik are coming home for Christmas, they write to expect them on December 20. They hope they can stay with us for a while, but Erik says Nadir is already busy looking for a house for them, and one of the houses Nadir has checked out looks promising, so they hope they will not disturb our routine for too long, although they might be staying with us for a few weeks – till everything is settled."

Mme. Giry was just as exhilarated as her daughter by these news. She had hoped for quite some time that the young couple would be coming home soon. She definitely missed them both. "Let me read the letter, Meg," she asked her daughter. "Do they write anything else of interest?" Meg giggled. "Oh, lots about the beautiful architecture in Florence, and how mild the climate is in Tuscany, but they both say they miss real winter weather and snow and therefore they are coming home."

About an hour later, Nadir dropped by for a visit – as it turned out he had received a similar letter, informing him that Erik and Christine would come home on December 20 and stay with the Girys for the time being, though Erik had asked him a lot of details about the house Nadir thought would be particularly suitable for the young couple. Mme. Giry immediately suggested that Nadir and Darius should come to their house on the twentieth to welcome Erik and Christine as well. Plans were made for the holidays too, even though Nadir, as a Muslim, did not celebrate Christmas, but he had no objections to having dinner with the Girys and the Moreaus on Christmas Day.

Xxx

The next weeks passed in a flurry. The two Girys cleaned their house from roof to cellar to be prepared for their friends' visit, they baked Christmas cookies and put up their nativity set to get into the mood for the holidays. On the twentieth, right after lunch, Nadir and Darius arrived and the four sat down in Mme. Giry's parlor over a pot of tea and waited for their friends. Shortly before three o'clock they heard a carriage stop in front of the house. When Mme. Giry opened the door to meet her two protégés, she saw Erik climb out of the carriage, then he leaned into the carriage again, picked up Christine in his arms and carried her right into Mme. Giry's parlor, where he put her into a comfortable armchair.

"Sit here, my love, till I have brought our bags inside, then I will carry you upstairs so that you can lie down and rest," he said, kissing Christine on the forehead. Mme. Giry, who had followed him inside, was about to ask if there was anything wrong with Christine, when Erik moved towards the door again and away from Christine. Now that Erik was no longer obstructing her view, Mme. Giry could not help but notice Christine's already very bulging belly. There was no doubt that the young woman was in the last stages of pregnancy.

Mme. Giry was delighted about these news, in fact she had been waiting for such a development for quite some time and had eagerly scanned Christine's and Erik's letters for any hints about a soon to be expected new arrival. She grinned broadly. "Oh Erik, Christine, that's wonderful! Why didn't you write about the baby?" Christine rubbed her belly, because the baby had kicked her, and smiled, "We wanted to surprise you!"

Nadir motioned Darius to follow him and patted Erik on the shoulder. "Let's go get your bags, Erik, " he said, and once they were outside, he added, "Give the women a few moments alone. Congratulations, by the way, from the looks of it, the baby is due within the month and you probably got Christine pregnant during your wedding night."

While the men unloaded the bags from the carriage and paid the coachman, Mme. Giry and Christine discussed the baby. Christine confirmed her surrogate mother's suspicion that she must have gotten pregnant within the first few days of her marriage. The baby was due in less than a month, in mid January.

"Erik is a bit nervous about it," Christine confided in the former ballet mistress. "He treats me like a raw egg and is overprotective of me. He is such an attentive husband." She smiled lovingly. "Sometimes I think I do not deserve him, he is too good for me. Of course he is worried that something could go wrong, that I might get hurt during childbirth, or that the baby…" her voice faltered. "He fears the baby could inherit his deformity." Mme. Giry got serious. "And you, Christine, how do you feel about it? I know there is only a small chance that Erik will pass on this feature to your children, but what if?"

Christine shook her head. "I am not worried. First, I do not think Erik's problem is genetic, since he does not recall anybody in his family having had a similar deformity, and second, even if our baby does inherit Erik's face – so what? He or she will still be our beloved child. I love Erik, his face does not change this a bit, why would it bother me if my child looked like his father?"

At that moment the men came in with the bags. The moment Erik took off his coat and his wide-brimmed hat, Mme. Giry gasped. He was wearing a new mask, made of rubber-like material, the color of which matched his natural skin color fairly closely. One had to look at him really thoroughly to notice the mask at all. Erik explained that he had gotten this mask in Italy and that he hoped it would help him find his way back into the world. With this mask he was able to walk around in plain daylight, and hopefully he would be able to work as an architect again to support his family. Then Erik insisted for Christine to lie down and rest till dinner. He carried her upstairs to her old room, which had been prepared for the young couple, before joining the others downstairs, where Mme. Giry simply hugged him and promised him that she would find an experienced midwife to help Christine during childbirth.

Xxx

After Christmas Erik and Mme. Giry got very busy preparing for the soon to be expected baby. Since they had been traveling, Christine and Erik had not bought anything for the baby yet. Mme. Giry asked Christine about her wishes for a crib and baby accessories, Erik provided her with the necessary money and she went shopping. Christine was to mostly rest, and Meg stayed home with her to keep her company. Nadir showed Erik the house that he had found for them, and Erik was very pleased with everything – the layout of the solidly built house, the neighborhood, the proximity to the Opera, even the price was acceptable, so he bought the house and hired painters, carpenters and other artisans to have everything prepared for his small family. He planned on having the house ready and furnished once Christine would be fully recovered from childbirth.

On the morning of January 16, Christine's water broke, which almost turned Erik into a nervous mess. Mme. Giry smiled at him encouragingly, telling him that everything would be fine and asked him to sit with Christine, while she went for the midwife that had been recommended to her and who had already examined Christine a few days earlier and confirmed that everything was as it should be and the delivery would be pretty routine.

Once Christine's contractions started to get really bad, Erik suffered almost more than she did. Seeing her in so much pain made him fear the worst. Christine tried to calm him down, telling him that it was not quite as bad as it looked – though it probably was worse – and that it would be worth every bit of suffering once they would hold their baby. Finally she had the ingenious idea to ask Erik to sing for her, since his voice would relax her. At first Erik thought he would not be able to produce one single sound but the longer he sang the more his singing relaxed them both, so much so, that the midwife, who had arrived in the meantime and had originally planned to send the soon-to-be-father out of the room once the baby's birth was imminent, changed her mind and let him stay along with Mme. Giry.

Another contraction tore through Christine's body. Erik held her hand and sang to her a lullaby he had sung to the child Christine so many years ago. The midwife nodded at Christine encouragingly. "We are almost there," she said. "At the next contraction, push with all your strength!" Christine did her best to do as she was told, and the midwife smiled. "The head is out, only one more push and we should have the little one!" The next contraction was the worst, Christine screamed in sheer agony and almost broke Erik's wrist, when she grasped his hand to draw strength from him, but she pushed once again as hard as she could – and she was rewarded by the sweetest sound she thought she had ever heard – her baby's first screams! She smiled at Erik, her face sweaty from the pains of her labor, but radiant with joy. "Oh Erik, our baby!" He smiled back at her. "Lie still, my love, you need to rest now," he admonished her. Then he looked at the midwife, who was taking care of the placenta and cleaning up Christine, while Mme. Giry had started to clean up the baby. "Do not worry, Monsieur," the midwife reassured him. "Your wife will be back on her feet in a few days and the baby seems to be strong and healthy." Mme. Giry smiled at him. "It's a boy, Erik, he is adorable."

Erik looked at her questioningly. "Does he…?" Mme. Giry understood the unfinished question and shook her head. "No, Erik, he is perfect. Here, see for yourself," and she placed the little bundle in Christine's arms. Both parents looked at the little red face and the tiny red hands, then looked at each other and smiled. They were totally in awe with this little being that had been created by their love.

Mme. Giry asked if they had already decided on a name for their son, and Christine explained that she had originally wanted to call a son Erik after his father, but Erik had been a bit embarrassed by that idea, and on second thought, she had realized it was maybe not such a good thing to have both men in her family called Erik. If she called one, the other might answer – or both, or none. So they had decided to name a son after her father instead, since it had been her father who had promised to send her the Angel of Music, and thus had set the events in motion that had ultimately lead to them falling in love with each other and getting married. The boy's name would therefore be Gustave Erik Moreau.

Of course they asked Father Aurelien to christen the little one, and Nadir and Darius were honored to be invited to that event. Like the Girys, they were totally enthralled by little Gustave and felt that he was the cutest baby in all of Paris, if not all of France.

Two weeks later, the Moreau-family moved into their new house. Christine loved it immediately. Erik apparently also had talent to be an interior decorator, for their new home was beautifully furnished and really cozy. It was obvious that Erik had chosen every piece of furniture with love.

Another two weeks later, Erik finally gave in to Christine's desire to sing again and they restarted their voice lessons. Christine had not sung during the better part of her pregnancy and was therefore horribly out of practice, but thanks to their combined efforts, by mid-May she was back to her previous level of expertise. At that time she contacted Messieurs Firmin and André and let them know that she would be willing to perform at the Opera's reopening if they still wanted to have her. They were only too happy to have her back, though they found it a bit strange, when she asked them that box 5 should be sold to her husband for those nights, that she would be performing. He would want to watch her, and maybe bring a friend or two.

Once rehearsals started in August, Christine used to bring her little son to the Opera with her, and the cute baby was everybody's favorite. Christine's colleagues had been a bit surprised to hear that she had married a M. Moreau, who they had never heard of, instead of the Vicomte de Chagny, whom she had been dating before the fire. At first, some had even doubted the existence of a husband, since Erik stayed away from the Opera for the time being, and had wondered whether the Vicomte or the Phantom was the little boy's father, but at the time the Opera reopened in September 1872 Erik had already started making a name for himself as a most creative architect, and now everybody was impressed to hear that this well-respected, fashionable architect was indeed Christine's mysterious, elusive husband.

Christine starred in the first two new productions of the Opera Populaire, but in November she informed the managers that she would need to take another prolonged leave of absence, since she was expecting another baby.

Maguérite Christine Moreau was born the following May. By then, her godmother Meg had started seeing a young employee of Erik's company which she married the following year. Shortly after Christine's and Erik's second daughter had been born, Christine received a wedding invitation. Raoul de Chagny informed her that he had finally found a young lady that would be able to heal his broken heart and he begged Christine to attend his wedding together with her family and the Girys as a sign that he was finally forgiven. They gladly accepted. Christine and Raoul's young bride Valérie soon became friends and saw each other fairly regularly, though Erik and Raoul remained a bit at odds with each other. After all, they had been rivals once and both had some unpleasant memories about their previous meetings.

Stories about the Opera being haunted by a ghost continued to be told around Paris for quite a while, but since the ghost never manifested itself again in the Opera Populaire, the rumors died down over time, and nobody who met the famous soprano Christine Moreau's equally famous architect husband ever suspected his involvement in the chandelier accident and the fire, just like nobody, who saw the magnificent pipe organ at the Moreaus' house would ever have guessed that it had once stood in a cave, in the middle of an underground lake, far below the Opera Populaire.

The End


End file.
